


Hair Length & Normalcy

by tomanonuniverse



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Also please leave comments i need dsfkllhsdkdhjls, Backstory, Because Gavin doesn't take care of himself dfsklhdfkjflhs, Character Study, Death, Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Siblings, Elijah supplies most of said hugs, Fainting, Gavin Reed Needs a Hug, Gavin Reed-centric, Gen, Gen Z Gavin Reed, Good Elijah Kamski, Goodnight, Graphic Description, Kidnapping, Minor Character Death, Misgendering, Murder-Suicide, Original Character(s), Out of Character, School Shootings, Suicidal Thoughts, The first chapter is 21 pages, There's a lot to unpack and it's the asscrack of the night, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Trans Gavin Reed, Transgender, asklhfadsljkahjaklhg, improper binding, not really but better safe than sorry, so youll have to forgive the lacking tags for now, tags will be updated as I go, tags will be updated as I go by the way!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-07-16 01:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16075799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomanonuniverse/pseuds/tomanonuniverse
Summary: Without thinking twice, Gavin obeyed, running out the front door like it was the last thing he’d ever do. It was nighttime so he could barely see where he was going but all he knew was that he had to keep running. As long as he was running, no one can ever catch him again. Not for being a failure. Not for being Gavin.





	1. Tread Out of Baltimore

**Author's Note:**

> God there's so much to unpack dkshdskjlhsdkj. The summary will probably change and the tags will be updated as I go, yeah? Heed the warnings!

At only ten years old, Elijah Kamski was attending university. It didn’t surprise anybody; the boy had shown signs of genius since he was just two. His sibling, however, learned at an average rate and went at the same pace as all the other kids. And despite being exactly eleven months older than Elijah, he couldn’t help the pride he felt for his younger brother. But it also meant being in his shadow. All in all, he seemed to be the completely normal stereotypical older brother.

Or at least, as normal as he could feel in a body that didn’t feel like his.

_Evangeline Kamski,_  people called him. But he knew, he knew that that wasn’t who he was.  It just felt wrong, sent shivers down his spine and wrapped around his entire frame like a cage. That’s not to say he was abnormal for feeling that way. Actually, it was more often than not that people admitted to being the same way. But he couldn’t help the negative thought. He shouldn’t be using  _he_  or  _him_  or  _his_  in the first place. He was supposed to be  _she_  and  _her,_  according to the biology he was born with.

It never ceased to amaze him how narrow-minded people could be, to be so caught-up with what he was supposed to look like to completely disregard what he actually was. He’s thankful that he was in this particular generation though. He’d heard of how much harder it was for the previous generations to express who they are without being  _killed_  for it. The thought alone terrified him, even if he’d never admit it. So he wasn’t worried about what society would think of him if they knew.

In fact, if he were to grab a megaphone and yell out that he was transgender in the middle of any populated location, no one would give a damn. A few people might even cheer for him for coming out, even if they didn’t particularly like him or even know him. No, he was worried about his parents finding out. It became apparent to him that the Kamskis were anything  _but_ normal.

Their father, Anthony Kamski, filled out every rich white-man stereotype in the book. Fat, always drunk, emotionally abusive, bigoted. Name it, he’s got it. He even has that stupid rich people mustache. Their mother, Cherrie Kamski, was almost the same (save for the mustache) if not completely oblivious to it. She was naive, practically at Anthony’s feet, present for his every need.

Anthony had married into the Kamski name for the riches, that much was obvious to both of their children, but their mother seemed completely ignorant of it, going so far as to hand him her father’s company on a silver platter. Her denial reached no ends. She was completely convinced Anthony loved her. He couldn’t stand it.

He’s also well aware that not only was he a pre-baby, but an accident as well. They hadn’t meant for Cherrie to get pregnant when he was first conceived within her. But they went with it, knowing they were going to get a child at some point anyway. But then he was born a girl and they wanted nothing to do with him because only a guy could be the proper heir for the company.

Well. Jokes on them.

Elijah, on the other hand, was completely planned. While he was born on January seventh, their parents took a couple of months break before they tried again. Then Elijah was born on time on December seventeenth. It all just rubbed more salt in the wound, that Gavin’s entire existence was a mistake and that he just shouldn’t have been born in the first place; that just seemed better to him than forever living in Elijah’s shadow.

Gavin. That was the name he’d chosen for himself, instead of the one he’d been given. It didn’t seem very original, he just took a couple of letters from his deadname and threw them around into a different word, but it was what made him most comfortable in his own skin. He’d much rather be called Gavin Kamski than Evangeline Kamski. Unfortunate, that he’s a Kamski at all. It didn’t really feel like it anyway.

No one called him that, of course, because no one knew he was transgender in the first place. Well, other than Elijah. (Elijah knew everything, he thought bitterly.) It wasn’t often the two saw each other, Elijah so busy with  _university_ while Gavin attended school, but one time Elijah had confronted him about the wraps and binders he’d found in his room.

He easily pieced together what Gavin used them for. The two didn’t have that good a relationship from the beginning, Elijah always acting as though he were superior to Gavin and everyone else. Gavin couldn’t really blame him, if he had an IQ of 171 he’d be an egotistical asshole as well, but he couldn’t blame himself for being jealous of him either. He was only human, and an extremely stressed and oppressed one at that.

Gavin thought he would tell. The first thing that came to him was that Elijah would use this over his head, but when he remembered that Elijah didn’t hide anything from their parents (they pampered him so, he told them exactly what he wanted and they did it, as opposed to slapping Gavin if he so much as asked to go outside with his “friends” instead of finishing homework) he realized that Elijah would  _tell._

He couldn’t breathe. He fell to the ground and covered his face with his hands, panting and hyperventilating as fear seized him. Elijah froze completely, eyes wide as his older sibling dropped to his knees before him. Usually, the sight would bring a complacent smirk to his face, glad that whoever he was talking to knew their place (or at least, that’s what Gavin thought. He didn’t actually know how Elijah felt about anything).  But this was “Evangeline.” “She’d” never do such a thing.

The movement had been so slow it almost never came. But eventually, a hand had touched his shoulder. Gavin almost screamed, really, but he pulled himself together and looked up, trying to seem like he wasn’t afraid. But it was only Elijah kneeling next to him, one hand on his shoulder and the other hovering hesitantly. Then, he hugged him.

Gavin choked on nothing, eyes widening in shock as Elijah’s arms wrapped around him carefully, like he’d break if they were anything but gentle. Only then did he finally allow himself the hiccup that suffocated him. He buried his face into his younger brother’s shoulder sobbed, loud and raw and defeated. He felt Elijah tighten his grip on him, a million words unspoken.

They remained unspoken because they never talked about what happened. Elijah had only asked him what name he wanted him to call him with, then continued to be an asshole, just with acknowledgment of Gavin’s identity. (He tried to tell him that the way he bound was extremely dangerous but he couldn’t really help him find another way so it fell on deaf ears.) Gavin liked that. Of course he didn’t like Elijah being a little twelve year old sociopath, but he liked that absolutely nothing had changed because of the revelation.

There were times however, when Gavin felt the pressure too much. He allowed himself to break when it was just Elijah; he was the only one who knew and it wasn’t like he could keep it all in. He tries, but  _Eli_  always knew anyway. First day of high school for Gavin. They were both fourteen now (Elijah  _turning_  fourteen) but Gavin was a highschool freshman and Elijah was almost finished with university. 

Gavin didn’t like having long hair. It made him seem a lot more feminine. Elijah had noticed his constant pulling at it and decided to intervene, braiding it for him and wrapping it around his head in a hairstyle Gavin couldn’t be bothered to actually the proper name for. From afar, it looked like Gavin genuinely had short hair.

He always let Elijah play with his hair. The other always wanted long hair but their parents wouldn’t let him, same thing with Gavin wanting short hair. The Kamskis were just so  _traditional_ in their way of thinking and both their children suffered for it. So they found the slightest bit of solidarity within their hair. How else would a child genius and an angry idiot bond?

Gavin stood at the school’s gate, the automatic frown on his face already as he tapped his foot in impatience. Elijah had a friend in university whose younger brother attended this school and so they arranged for them to meet so that he could show him around, just something to make the high school experience easier.

Elijah would never admit to helping Gavin with anything so naturally the other teased him about it. The memory brought a small smile to his face. Even if he was destined to forever be in Elijah’s shadow, he truly couldn’t help the surge of fondness he held for him. Maybe it had something to do with him being older than him but it didn’t matter. He knew what Elijah was really now, just another boy under a label he didn’t know what do with.

“Evangeline?” Gavin had half a mind to respond to the name. Sometimes he forgot that that was actually still his name. No one ever really addressed him, at school people avoided him because he was “a bitch to everyone for no reason” and at home he was barely ever acknowledged by anyone other than Elijah, when he wasn’t being pulled away from him as if he would catch the stupid from him if they were around each other for too long. (Amanda had been the one to put that in his head. Gavin didn’t like Amanda.)

When he turned around, his jaw had nearly dropped. One of the prettiest if not _the_ prettiest boy he’d ever seen in his entire goddamn life was standing there, looking at him with innocent curiosity. He had a head of ginger curls and the brightest eyes he’ll ever come to see, green plates staring back (down, he was  _so tall_ ) at his grey ones kindly. Sometimes he indulged in his ogling because hey, if people think he’s a girl then he can stare without being called out.

It seemed he just stood there and didn’t say anything because he had to repeated himself. “Evangeline Kamski?” He called again. Gavin cringed, which didn’t seem to go unnoticed by the other guy. He cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. “Yeah, that’s me,” he responded sharply, glad his voice didn’t break, “who’s asking?”

The other seemed taken aback by the hostile behavior, blinking repeatedly in confusion. Gavin would have found it adorable were he not busy feeling guilty. He couldn’t help the way he was, and by that he meant his rudeness not the other thing. He’d grown up having to constantly defend and justify himself (as to why he wasn’t perfect like Elijah) and so the words that left him were always crueller than most.

The boy shook his head as if to be rid himself of the thought and smiled brightly at Gavin. “I’m Ken,” he introduced and extended his hand to him, “Ken Lively, but you can call me Kenny, all my friends do.”  Gavin looked at the hand with a raised eyebrow then took it. The grip was still gentle and friendly, not a hint of caution in it.

Gavin couldn’t help the snark that went past his lips, it was a part of him now. “So we’re friends, are we?” He hissed, eyebrow still raised. The words weren’t meant to have as much bite as they did, Gavin just said words and assumed everyone understood that there wasn’t supposed to be any harm intended behind it, but that wasn’t always the case.

The boy, Ken, laughed almost nervously, scratching the back of his head. “Well, I  _am_ gonna be showing you around so,” he stammered, eyebrows furrowed as he shifted from one foot to the other, “might as well get off on the right foot, or whatever.” Gavin surveyed him up and down as he retracted his hand, amusement seeping into him as he realized just how nervous this guy was.

He shivered. He was probably hanging around Elijah too much for his own good if he was deriving amusement from other people’s misery. “My older brother Isaac is friends with your brother, the little prodigy guy, Elijah. They told me you could use some help getting around around here.” At the words, Gavin’s face fell immediately. Ken seemingly noticed his mistake and winced, but before he could correct himself, Gavin interrupted him.

“I don’t  _need help_ ,” he growled at the other. He knows it was just a poor choice of words, or maybe that’s what Elijah had told them being the little shit he is, but again, he couldn’t help the “attitude.” “R-Right,” Ken stuttered, “sorry, I— I didn’t mean it like that.” The boy mumbled apologetically, looking at the ground almost in shame.

Gavin sneered. He wasn’t exactly sure why, maybe he was annoyed at how vulnerable and awkward Ken was because acting like that made him an  _easy target_ , or maybe it was because he was guilty about reducing the boy into a sad mess in a matter of seconds but didn’t know how to properly convey it other than sneering, but he just did.

He huffed through his nose. “Let’s just get this overwith, nerd,” Gavin mumbled, elbowing the other in the arm in what he hoped came across as friendly. To his chagrin, Ken looked up at him and smiled almost gratefully then extended his elbow, as if expecting him to hook his arm through it. Gavin looked at him as if he were crazy but the boy looked completely innocent, seriously waiting for them to hook arms.

Gavin snorted in disbelief and shrugged, snaking his arm through the hole and hooking their elbows together. Ken grinned brightly, a happy twinkle shining through his eye for a brief second as his cheeks dusted a light rosy color. “Cool! I’ll show you my friends while we do it!” He exclaimed excitedly, genuinely looking forward to spending more time with Gavin.

Gavin blushed and almost smiled, almost, before remembering that Ken was looking forward to spending time with  _Evangeline_ , not  _Gavin._ His throat tightened and his fists clenched, but he gave the other a tight grin to betray the turmoil that suddenly choked him. Ken blinked, shrugged, then continued to cheerfully point out the layout of the building as well as his friends.

Ken had his own little group of friends consisting of Dwight, his best friend, Juliet, Dwight’s older sister, and a girl called Melissa. The first thing Gavin had noticed was that they were all older than him. Ken, Melissa, and Dwight were all juniors and Juliet was a senior. He supposed it would be hard finding friends his age so older than him would have to do.

The second thing he noticed was the  _mondo_  crush Juliet had on Melissa. Juliet seemed to be a calm and collected character, greeting Gavin with a much more level-headed approach than Ken’s awkward stumbling, Dwight’s laid-back attitude, and Melissa’s hyperactive shouting. The instant Melissa put a hand on her arm or even looked her way, she’d stutter and tumble over her words, face quickly heating up.

The third thing he noticed was the unfortunate interest Melissa had in him. He could see the hurt flash on Juliet’s face when Melissa complimented him or when she touched his arm for too long. He was surprised that everyone was just so blatantly okay with people being  _different_  AKA liking the same sex here and for a moment, he considered revealing to at least his friends his true identity, but decided against it.

Because what if they had double-standards? It’s always a possibility that they tolerate liking the same sex but not transgenderism. And even if they did, Melissa didn’t seem like she could keep a secret for shit and the entire school would know in the span of 24 hours. Then the news would reach his parents somehow and it just didn’t seem like a sound investment to him.

He didn’t exactly know what to say to tell Melissa that he wasn’t interested in her. It wasn’t like he didn’t like girls. He liked girls. And guys. Anyone, really. But what exactly should he say? He doesn’t want to imply that he’s a straight girl when he’s really a definitely-not-straight guy. He didn’t even have a word for the situation.

Everything was a jumble in his head, too complicated for him to bother untangling. Things became a bit clearer, however, after a conversation he had with one Ken Lively. “I can’t figure this out for the life of me,” Gavin whined, voice muffled by the fact that he slammed his head face down onto his desk, “I’m going to fail.”

Dwight chuckled at his misery, leaning forward and patting his back aggressively. “Oh bro, you haven’t seen shit yet,” he pointed out, chewing on junk food then shrugging and wiping crumbs from his hands onto Ken’s back, “you’ll be fine.” The other, knowing what the hell he just did, began to dust his clothes as if it were a regular occurrence, glaring at Dwight with no malice. From the short time Gavin had been hanging out with them, he’d come to realize it was. Dwight took every opportunity he had to touch Ken. He wasn’t sure what the meant.

“Ooh, Eva, what if you get like, a tutor?” Melissa suggested animatedly, using one of the nicknames Gavin didn’t like in the slightest. “I mean, just ask someone to help in general.” At that, Gavin stiffened and sat up, fists clenched. “I don’t need help,” he shot at the girl, who’d jumped back at the retort in surprise. Juliet frowned and stepped forward, narrowing her eyes. “Hey, chill out. She was just being nice.”

Gavin felt his chest constrict, beyond what the binder was doing, as a scowl formed onto his face. He immediately straightened and got into the defensive, ready to open his mouth and say things he was going to regret. Ken suddenly cut him with a short laugh.  _“Aha—_ uh, hey, I-I’ve got movie tickets for later tonight so if you want we could cover some of the syllabus then head to the movies together afterwards?”

He’d spoken so fast, Gavin almost didn’t catch it. He blinked repeatedly as he processed the words one by one before a laugh bubbled out of him. “What, like a  _date?_ ” He’d said the words mockingly, actually intending the teasing behind them for once, his shoulders relaxing as he slipped back into his element. Ken coughed into his hand. “If you want it to be.”

All five teenagers went still for a good five minutes. Gavin had to blink again to process  _those_  words, turning to the ginger almost bewildered. “Wait, are you serious?” He practically yelled, shocked at the idea even coming up. Ken looked at him with even wider eyes like a deer caught in headlights. The only thing that came out of his mouth was “uhhhhhhhh—”

“We gotta go,” Dwight spoke abruptly. The four turned to him. He was suddenly standing straight, posture stiff and shoulders pulled taunt tensely. “I just remembered mom wants Julie and I to tidy the whole house up before she’s home.” Gavin likes to think he’s good at spotting liars but he’s almost sure  _everyone_ knew he was lying at that moment.

Juliet looked at him almost pityingly as he went, then  _glared_  at Gavin. He blinked, completely lost. She turned her nose and followed her younger brother after nodding goodbyes to the other two parties in the room. Melissa watched them go then turned to the two in front of her. Her hands went up in the air as she grinned at them sheepishly.

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” she said almost mischievously, then proceeded to leave. Gavin turned to Ken in confusion, who looked just as lost as he was. Then, that same rosey color from before rose to his cheeks as he remembered what the topic at hand was. Gavin’s eyebrows shot upwards. He was actually being serious, was he?

Against his better judgment, Gavin went. He knows he shouldn’t have, because Ken likes  _Evangeline_  and he’s not  _Evangeline_  but he went anyway. At first he didn’t know why, but later he recognized it. He was in complete denial about it but he sees it now. He liked Ken. He’s sweet and understanding. A little too innocent but by no means was he stupid. All in all, he was perfect. Or at least the cheesy teenager version of it.

Elijah hadn’t let it go the second he found out. The brotherly teasing was almost unavoidable and he’d  _insisted_ on dressing Gavin up for the date. It was getting increasingly annoying, especially when he kept teasing him about how “he has Isaac’s blessing” as well. But at the same time, Gavin loved it. It felt like they were  _normal._

He should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

October tenth. That’s the day he lost everything. He didn’t have much in the first place, just a couple of friends, a weird brother, and whatever the hell was between him and Ken. They weren’t  _dating,_ not exactly. They didn’t even know each other that long, just a month. But they were something that went out together a lot.

Elijah and Isaac supplied him with the information that today was Ken’s birthday. So naturally, he went out to buy him a gift to surprise him with it. It was a Tuesday, so he had to contain himself and not immediately show it to him on Monday. He was anxious on whether he would like it or not since the two technology nerds didn’t help him out.

Ken loved books, nerd that he is. More than that, he loved  _mystery_ books. And dare Gavin admit, he did as well. There was something about piecing things together, about the speculation, about the case. It drew him in and made him want to know more. And he was  _good_  at it. He was amazingly observant when it came to solving cases before the detectives in the story did. He wasn’t sure what that meant either.

And so, Gavin bought a book that he was sure Ken hadn’t read before. He was planning to give it to him as a surprise, since the other doesn’t even know that Gavin knows it’s his birthday. But the day itself had started off incorrectly. One event, just one, had fucked with all of his plans. As Gavin stared at himself in his room mirror, he growled.

His binder was stuck. It was digging into his torso painfully and he couldn’t get it off or readjust it. It’s what he gets for not using a proper binder, really. If he wasted anymore time in his room and not getting fully dressed, he would be late for school. His parents would absolutely murder him. So Gavin made one of the shittiest decisions he’d ever made (and that says something) and just got dressed then left for school.

By the time he’d even located Lively, he was struggling for breath. He was at the end of the hall and was about to leave to which Gavin thought  _hell no._  “Ken!” He called, causing the other to turn. He saw his eyebrows raise when he found out who it was that spoke. Gavin had yet to call him Kenny. He doesn’t think he ever will, really.

“Fucking finally I found you,” the shorter guy hissed, panting and not just because of the jog, “where the fuck have you been all day? I come late and you ditch me at the gate?” The other only laughed at the accusation, knowing full well Gavin wasn’t being serious. Gavin tried to smile back but the strain was too obvious if Ken’s face falling was anything to go by.

“Angie?” The name made Gavin shudder in absolute disgust. It was because he was born in the Goddamn wrong body that he was being hurt like this. Said body used names like  _Eva_ and  _Angie_ and he hated it, he hated it so much. He could feel bile rising in his throat, just from someone uttering a single word, but he swallowed with great difficulty and looked up.

He must not have looked too great because Ken’s eyes widened. “Evangeline, are you okay? You look like you’re in pain,” he said, ever so perceptive. Gavin cursed underneath his breath and moved his head erratically, trying to shake off the hair that stuck to his face from his sweat. He didn’t have time to have Elijah braid his hair today.

Gavin wheezed. “H-Happy birthd-day,” the boy finally managed, shoving the book into the unsuspecting teenager’s hands. As expected, he diverted his attention from Gavin and to the book. Said teen took the opportunity and turned on his heel, not realizing just how hunched over he was until he had to break out into sprint to get away.

He heard the other call his name, or what was  _supposed_  to be his name, but he kept running. He looked through a window of a door and saw that the room was empty so he burst in and slammed the door shut behind him. He heaved in his breaths, gripping at a desk in front of him tightly enough to have scrape marks from where his nails carved the wood.

He threw his shirt off almost too aggressively and it  _hurt_. He felt his eyes water as he struggled with his stupid, makeshift binder. Finally getting it off of him, he shucked it across the room and folded his arms over his no doubt now bruised ribs. The tears were running down his face before he’d realized it as he inhaled, shuddering violently. He hoped whatever damage he just did wasn’t permanent.

“Evangeline, what’s g—”

Gavin whipped around and looked to the door at the noise. Ken stood with wide eyes. For a moment, they held eye contact, both equally shocked and confused and horrified. Then Ken glanced down.

Gavin then realized he was standing shirtless in the middle of a teacher’s office.

His eyes stung again and he turned around quickly, arms crossing over his bare chest as he shut his eyes tightly, hoping and praying that what was happening was a dream. His hopes and prayers were wasted however as Ken took a step towards him. “Eva, what’s going on? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He inquired quickly, voice breaking in worry.

He didn’t hear whatever response the teen before him was going to say because something caught his attention. Ken took a step back and inspected the white cloth he’d just stepped on. He bent down to pick it up and inspected it. It took him a few a moments of looking it over to realize what it was and his head snapped up to look at “Evangeline.”

“Wait, are you—”

_“Just get out!”_  Gavin shouted, wrapping his arms around himself while giving Ken his back. He couldn’t bear to look at him. He was probably regarding him with the same disgust he felt for himself. Everything they’d done, whatever friendship they’d built in the month they’d known each other in had just come crashing down.

He hiccupped despite himself. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for himself. Managing to fuck up this early was most likely a very Gavin thing. Elijah managed to keep his friends throughout his entire university experience, despite always being told to not be with those lesser than him. But Gavin? Gavin was the lowest of the low and he still fucked up. Truly unbeatable.

Again, he almost screamed when he felt a hand at his shoulder. It spun him around, and defeated, he let it. A hand snaked its way onto his face and cupped his cheek. He automatically flinched but otherwise did not move. “Can you look at me?” Ken muttered quietly. Gavin tried to pry his eyes open but ended up shaking his head in response.

Another hand was placed at his bare waist. “Please look at me.” The words came more as a request than they did as an inquiry. Gavin sucked air through his tears and shook, unable to stop himself even if he was practically on display. Finally,  _finally_ , his eyelids shuttered apart. Gavin looked ahead at first, preparing himself, then looked up to meet Ken’s eyes.

There was no disgust. In fact, there was nothing. His face was completely flat, unreadable.

“What’s your name?”

Gavin blinked. He tried to pull his head back or even tilt it in confusion but Ken cradled his face in a way that didn’t let him move away. His eyebrows furrowed downwards in confusion, as if trying to figure out what the motive behind the question was. But as he continued to scan the other’s facial expression or lack thereof, he found nothing. So he took a deep breath.

“Gavin.”

Ken continued to stare back at his defiant but vulnerable gaze. Then, he nodded slowly.

“Okay.”

Gavin’s face scrunched upwards, puzzled. “Okay?—”

His eyes widened as two lips pressed against his. Ken was kissing him, he realized a bit late. The other had closed his eyes and was now gently pressing their mouths together, rough enough for him to be doing it on purpose but gentle enough to allow Gavin to pull away if he wanted to. But why in the seven hells would he want to?

With that thought in mind, Gavin’s eyes slid shut once more and he pushed back against the other teen. He let one of his hands hold the back of the other’s neck to keep him down as they leaned into each other’s passionate touch. Gavin wasn’t sure if he was supposed to use his tongue but since he liked where he was he just continued with what they were doing.

Eventually, they needed to breath. Gavin leaned away as his eyes blinked open, as did Ken’s. The two looked at each other in a daze, green unable to look away from grey and vice versa. One of them had to say something but Gavin had so many question swimming around in his brain he couldn’t choose which one to ask first.

Ken spoke first instead. “That was my first kiss,” he admitted almost sheepishly, now acting a lot like he usually would. Gavin blinked at him repeatedly, seemingly the only thing he has been able to do for the past couple of hours. Finally, he responded. “Mine too,” he said, eyes narrowed and voice low, his words slurring with his confusion.

The curly-haired boy grinned brightly at him, but Gavin could only tilt his head. “Why would you kiss me?” He finally asked. Ken’s grin fell as did his hand, joining the other on Gavin’s waist. “Why wouldn’t I?” He retorted, staring at Gavin as if he were genuinely confused why he’d ask him such a question. “We’re boyfriends, aren’t we?”

“I’m not a boy,” Gavin said quickly, the words burning his tongue as he spoke them. Ken’s hands firmly pressed against his sides as he wore a determined expression. “Yes, you are,” he reaffirmed, “just because you weren’t born a boy doesn’t mean you’re a girl either.” Gavin couldn’t help his eyes watering at the words.

Ken seemed to understand without him even saying anything. It was impossible. It was perfect. It was Ken.

Despite his glassy eyes, Gavin grinned at the taller boy, grateful, fond, and hopelessly smitten. Ken grinned back at him with the same foolish expression. “You really don’t care?” Gavin questioned, just to be sure. Thankfully, Ken didn’t seem offended by the question. “Not at all,” he reassured, “just that you’re not binding right. I can get you a proper binder if you want? Won’t tell a soul it’s for you, unless you want me to, of course.”

Gavin barely had time to smile before Ken snorted ungracefully out of the blue. “Plus, dude, it’s like. 2016,” he pointed out, “we’re over that shit.” Gavin laughed, burying his face into the other’s button up, resisting the urge to rub his face on the fabric. Ken suddenly cleared his throat and Gavin stiffened, pulling away in concern.

“You should probably… Put a shirt on,” Ken whispered, averting his gaze and snapping his hands behind his back. Gavin looked down at himself to see just one of his arms crossing over both of his breasts covering barely anything and a huge red blush rose to his cheeks. He smacked Ken’s arm for no apparent reason and sped past him to grab his binder from the ground.

A hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled him back. Gavin turned to Ken in confusion, red still in his cheeks. “I said a shirt, Gavin. Just keep the binder off for the rest of today, you literally have bruises.” At that, Gavin looked down at himself again but looked beyond his chest at his ribs, grimacing at the fact that the skin was turning purple.

The thought of not wearing his binder made him want to go home immediately because people would mostly definitely notice him going from slightly flat to sudden tits. He whined slightly. “I really fucked up this time, huh?” He mumbled to himself, poking at his bruised ribs and knowing full well Ken was right. As he walked towards the shirt he’d thrown, Ken shook his head.

“It’s okay,” he smiled, “we all start somewhere.” Gavin turned as he pulled his shirt down, raising an eyebrow at the other. Ken didn’t seem to want to correct himself and just opted to roll his eyes. Gavin bit his lip and looked at himself,  _again_ , frowning. “Does it look… I mean, is it obvious?” Then, in a slightly lower voice, he added, “is it bad?”

Ken walked towards him and wrapped his arms around his middle, pulling him close. “Never, Gav.” The shorter boy rose an eyebrow at the nickname. Ken looked back inquisitively, wondering if he didn’t like it. Gavin stared back for a moment then grinned. “I’ll take your word for it,  _Kenny,”_  he said, practically singing the word.

The other gasped in delight. “You said it!” He exclaimed in surprise. Gavin laughed at his purity, shoulders shaking as he leaned into the other’s embrace. He craned his neck to look up at the other then beamed at him affectionately. That went so much better than he could have ever expected it to. But the “but” had to come.

As they gazed into each other’s eyes like losers, a loud and annoying alarm cut through the atmosphere. Gavin hissed at the interruption, looking away from Ken to glare at the walls like they were personally offending him. When he’d looked back at his boyfriend (his boyfriend!), he frowned worriedly at what he saw before him.

Ken had gone pale, whiter than a sheet of paper. “What is that?” Gavin felt compelled to ask, since the other didn’t seem like he was about to clarify. “Is that a fire drill or something?” He inquired cluelessly, looking around for the source of the noise. He didn’t hear anything about them doing any practices today. If that were the case, then there was an actual fire in the building. But it didn’t explain why Ken had gone so pale.

“ _Shooter_ ,” the ginger managed, terrified, “there’s a  _shooter_ on school grounds.”

Gavin froze.

Well, that was one very  _extreme_ “but.” The universe must  _really_  be against his happiness.

Immediately, he snapped himself into action. “Where are the bunkers?” Ken blinked at him, tilting his head in confusion. “Bunkers?” He parroted, puzzled. It was Gavin’s turn to pale. This wasn’t his first rodeo with a shooter, the first time he had been too young to understand the gravity of the situation and its protocols, but now he knew.

“The bunkers?” Gavin repeated in an almost horrified deadpan, “and the closets? And hiding places? Where the hell are you supposed to go?” Did this school not do shooter drills? In Gavin’s old pre-school and middle school, they did drills. Why weren’t they doing high school drills? Did they believe teenagers were at a lower risk of shooters just because preschoolers were targeted more? Was this place for real?

“Out?” Ken responded in bewilderment, confirming Gavin’s suspicions. “We’re supposed to get out and if we can’t, we hide wherever.” Gavin’s jaw dropped in disbelief at the words. Oh this place was definitely not caught up with the times, was it? “Are you shitting me? They want you out in the open when there’s someone with a gun out there?”

At that, Ken shrugged. Gavin’s hand flew up to his hair and ran through it anxiously. They could hypothetically hide here, but if the shooter opens this door then both of them are fucked. There wasn’t much of a place to hide in a teacher’s office. And they weren’t even on the first floor so they couldn’t jump out of the windows to escape if they wanted to.

Rapid fire shots filled the air as more than one person’s screams joined the sound. Gavin and Ken looked at each other in absolute terror as their classmate’s shouts reached their ears. Not only did that mean that the shooter was close to their location but it also meant that someone somewhere was injured and most likely dead.

Gavin couldn’t help the fear that seized him. He wasn’t too worried for himself, not really, but the mere idea that someone out there was bleeding to death made him think of how surreal the situation was. Sure, he wasn’t afraid of dying, but it’s not like he’s going to go out of his way to go die. He doesn’t think he’s reached that point. Not yet.

Ken seemed to have another idea in mind as he suddenly reached for the door’s handle. Gavin choked on air and grabbed the other’s wrist before it even contacted the metal and yanked it back as if i would’ve gotten burned. “What the  _fuck_ are you doing?!” He whisper-yelled, glaring at Ken with fire in his eyes, “are you  _trying_  to get us killed?!”

The other shook his head erratically. “No! Of course not!” He responded, voice hushed as well. He glanced at the door and frowned. “I have to go find Dwight and the others.” Gavin sputtered at the ridiculous revelation. “Did you not hear me when I said there was someone out there with a gun or?” He hissed incredulously.

“Just stay put, I’ll be right back,” Ken waved his hand dismissively and reaching for the door once more. “Oh no you fucking don’t,” Gavin growled and stood up straighter, “if you’re gonna go out and get yourself killed, I’m going with you.” At the words, Ken turned to him with a softened expression and a grateful look.

Gavin looked away and scowled. “Don’t you look at me like that,” he groaned, “because if that guy doesn’t kill you I fucking will for doing something as stupid as this in the first place.” Ken snickered at the other’s antics despite the nervous edge to the laugh. He was pretty sure Gavin might actually kill him if anyone got hurt. He hopes it never comes to that.

“Get a move on, Lively,” the shorter boy ordered, “if we’re going to do this we better just do it.” Gavin didn’t want to do this. He had a bad feeling deep in his gut that had nothing to do with how insane this suicide mission was. He knew. Something really,  _really_  bad was going to happen. But no matter how much he tried, no specific  _realistic_  scenario went through his head so he just had to wing it.

Wing it with lives on the line, but still winging it. He gulped hesitantly as Ken finally opened the door. He briefly considered making the two of them take their shoes off so that they don’t squeak on the floor but Ken was already maneuvering out of the room and into the hall, forcing Gavin to follow him. The last thing they need is to be separated.

As they crouched around, a classroom’s door opened and yanked them in. Gavin nearly shrieked but a hand slammed over his mouth before he could. He looked up at the person who grabbed him and stilled. Juliet was staring back at him sternly and behind her were Ken and Dwight in the same situation. Deeming him calm enough, she removed her hand.

She didn’t let him speak. “Where’s Melissa?” Gavin flattened his lips.  _‘I’m fine too, thanks,’_  he thought slightly bitterly.  He shook the thought away and actually answered. “She’s not with you two?” He whispered back in confusion. The senior paled considerably, realizing that the missing party’s location was still unknown to everyone in the room.

Dwight and Ken let go of the bone-crushing relieved hug they had each other in and stared at the conversation in worry. “We have to find Melissa,” Juliet insisted, turning to them all as if someone had objected in the first place. Gavin furrowed his brows in desperation. “I swear, you all must be a part of some sort of suicide squad I’m not aware of.”

Only Ken flashed him a small grin. The other two seemed too anxious to appreciate the humor. Technically, Gavin knew he shouldn’t be trying to make jokes at a time like this. Maybe he should wait until they’ve found Melissa to crack another. Because humor always made a bad situation better, right? Right?

He shook the thought away as he realized they were moving once more. He briefly wondered if any of them knew where they were heading. It was entirely a possibility that they found each other by sheer luck and not the fact that Ken had Dwight’s schedule memorized by heart and vice versa. Hopefully Juliet knew Melissa’s schedule. She liked her, she was supposed to kn—

Ever so abruptly did a sudden squeak and  **slam**  interrupt the eerie silence the four crawled through. Then, a screech.  _“Please don’t!”_  Someone cried. The voice was so extremely close, like they were just around the corner. Which they were. And from the fact that Juliet had broken out into a run, it was conveniently who they were looking for.

Everything went in slow motion as they rounded the corner. In front of the lockers was a masked man with a rifle slung on his back and a handgun in his hand, holding the tip of it against Melissa’s temple as she crawled back away from him after he seemingly dragged her out of the locker she was hiding in. Gavin didn’t know why it happened but his feet were already carrying him towards them without his brain even giving the order.

But he was too late.

Right before he’d tackled his entire weight into the ski-masked man, he pulled the trigger. Gavin swore he  _heard_ the bullet bury itself into Melissa’s brain. The sickening crunch her skull did as the bullet penetrated straight through it. Sounds that will never, ever leave him. Her head snapped back, almost flying clean off her shoulders as the rest of her body followed the force backwards.

_**“NOOOO!”** _

Gavin was sure the entire school heard Juliet scream bloody murder ( _ha_ ) as Melissa’s corpse dropped onto the ground with a heavy thud. Gavin’s hands had encircled the assailant’s and tried to grab hold of the gun. The only reason he’d remotely succeeded was because of Juliet’s shout. It threw the man off and allowed Gavin to yank the gun out of his hands. Their struggling was too strong it seemed as the gun flew from Gavin’s hands as well and away from both of them.

As Gavin followed the gun as it fell, the shooter pulled the rifle from behind his back. Gavin couldn’t hold back an alarmed yelp as he grabbed him before he could take aim, twisting their arms to the left so that the gun remained pointed away from him, careful not to be touching the weapon at all. The teen thanked the Lord for the adrenaline he was using to fight off a fully grown man.

Suddenly, the shooter looked to the side for a second then back at Gavin and the kid had a feeling that if he were looking at the man’s actual face he would’ve been grinning at him. He pressed his finger onto the trigger and the gun fired blindly in the general direction. Gavin’s arms shook with the force of the firing.

He heard someone make a choking noise and for a split second, allowed himself to look. His eyes widened and his blood ran cold. To his right were his friends standing out in the open. Juliet had sunk to the floor and was avoiding most of the gunfire by sheer luck while Dwight dove behind the corner, reaching to grab his older sister with him but getting hit in the side by a stray, forcing him to retreat.

But Ken.

Kenny was the one who’d made the choking noise. A bullet had gotten him dead center in the throat causing his hands to fly up and try to cover the fountain of blood that began to spew from the hole. He coughed it up as he staggered backwards. Another bullet struck him in the left shoulder and made him fly backwards then another slammed into his right thigh and pushed him further. Finally, one more hit him in stomach and forced his back to hit the wall.

As he slid down, a trail of blood decorated the wall behind him. He still kept his hands over his neck even when he’d been shot in multiple other places. Gavin watched him convulse violently, trying to hack up the blood that kept clogging his damaged airways and failing. Crimson bubbled from his open mouth as his hands slowly fell back to his sides.

And just like that, Ken Lively was dead.

Gavin had gone impossibly still, the color long gone from his face and breath knocked out of his lungs. He couldn’t exactly register what was happening around him anymore as everything seemed muffled and blurred but he was sure he heard Dwight screaming for his best friend. Gavin’s vision had completely focused on his boyfriend’s corpse and nothing else.

The attacker saw the opportunity and yanked his rifle back. Gavin didn’t have the time to react properly because he was grabbed by the front of his shirt and spun around like a doll then slammed into the lockers. Then he felt the butt of the rifle dig into his  _already_ bruised ribs and he fell to his knees. He hadn’t realized tears were streaming down his face until he’s looked up at the last face he’ll ever see and felt the cool air on the salty fluid.

The shooter took aim but he never got to actually shoot. Gavin felt the man’s blood splatter onto his face as a bullet dove into the side of his head. He watched his body drop next to Melissa’s feet and slammed his back into the lockers to get away from him as he fell. After all, he was still holding a gun, dead or not.

Gavin finally turned his head to the side, trembling almost violently as he did so. Juliet was holding the handgun from earlier in her hands and aiming at where the man was once standing. The shot was most likely a lucky one, either that or Juliet was a good shot for whatever reason. As he looked at her dead eyes, he realized why her hands were so steady.

In a split second, Juliet pressed the gun to her own temple then shut her eyes and with a bang was no more. As she dropped to the side, Dwight walked from across the corner, one hand on the wall and the other pressed over the wound in his side. He assessed the body count on the ground then went to the other wall, dropping to his knees next to Ken’s corpse. As he shut his eyes and intertwined their fingers with tears in his eyes, Gavin  _finally_  understood.

Dwight’s head whipped to look at him and he snarled.  _“It’s all your fault,”_  he spat, head shaking in rage. Gavin’s jaw dropped at the accusation, and from Dwight no less. But as he looked at Melissa, Ken, and Juliet then at his hands, he realized,  _it was_. There was so much blood on his hands. He killed them. He killed his friends.

Wasting no time, Gavin shot  _(h a)_  to his feet and turned on his heel, sprinting down the hall. He had to get away, away, away where no one can see him and what he is and what he’s done. Logically, he knows he should wait for the police since the school was supposedly on “lockdown,” but he couldn’t stop  _running_. He  _can’t._

He wiped his face with his forearms as he ran, both to wipe the tears and the blood away. He can’t be running around with blood on his face. People will think— people will  _know_ he killed someone. Gavin hadn’t realized he’d ran all the way “home” until he practically shoved one of the maids out of the way as he ran upstairs then slammed the bathroom door, locking himself in.

He was a Goddamn murderer. He couldn’t save a single life out of three and who knows what the hell happened to Dwight. Maybe he’d bled out. Maybe the police arrived. Gavin didn’t know, he didn’t care. Those people’s lives were on his hands. And logically, he knows he can’t be jailed for failing to save someone’s life, but if they  _do_ ask to take him in he’d willingly go.

The mirror on the medicine cabinet was pissing him off. The last thing he wanted to see was his stupid fucking face and his stupid fucking hair and all the blood and sweat and tears. He didn’t want to see any of it. He nearly pulled its door off its hinges as he swung it open. A luster caught his eye from within the small shelves: a pair of scissors.

He grabbed it and stared at his hands for a moment. He held it high above one of his arms and glared at his flesh like it offended him. Then, he screamed. He screamed and grabbed at the edges of his hair, putting the scissors on his scalp and snipping it all off. He continued to shout and cut his hair, pulling it away from his head and chucking it onto the floor instead of letting it fall peacefully.

“Gavin?!” He nearly jumped out of his skin (he wishes) when he heard the name. Only one person used that name when referring to him (the only other person who would have was dead now, because of him) and that was Elijah. But why on earth was Elijah standing at the door and knocking like the apocalypse was upon mankind? Like he wouldn’t be able to fix it anyway.

“Gavin,  _please_ open the door!” ‘Please?’ Elijah never says  _please._  He just asks for things and he gets them. Why did he say that?

“I saw! I saw on the news, there was a— a  _shooter_ , Gavin  _please—”_

Oh God. Elijah saw. Elijah saw, meaning Elijah knew. His little brother knows now, that he’s a Goddamned mass murderer. What did he want? Did he call the police on him, report that the runaway murderer was currently in his house? Was that why he wanted him to open the door? Well. If that was the case, then he would gladly do so.

Gavin shakily got to his knees and unlocked the door. In a matter of seconds Elijah had swung it open. The first thing he did was snatch the scissors from Gavin’s hands, like he knew exactly what would happen had he kept them on his person. Then he surveyed the other for any injuries, patting his forearms, his face, his shoulders. Before he could get to his ribs, Gavin hiccupped, catching his attention.

Blue eyes met grey and Gavin’s shoulders shook. “ _I…_   _I couldn’t save them...”_  Gavin cried, head hanging in shame as his arms wrapped around his own vulnerable frame.  _“I killed them, Eli. I fucking killed them all.”_

“Shh,” Elijah commanded and grabbed the back of his brother’s head, pulling it to his shoulder and wrapping his arms around him protectively, “you didn’t kill anyone, don’t you even dare think that way.” He couldn’t tell whether his reassurances were falling on deaf ears as Gavin just continuously cried into his shoulder, not even hugging him back.

The older brother’s hands remained in vice grips on his own biceps so much so he was sure if he squeezed hard enough and pulled he could tear his arms off. At the thought, Elijah pulled back and slipped his fingers underneath Gavin’s in order to loosen them. The other seemed too weak to even argue with him.

He cupped his older brother’s face and looked at him in concern. “What can I do?” He asked softly. Gavin stared at him in surprise for a long time then began to shake his head slowly, setting his forehead back on the other’s shoulder silently. Elijah accepted that and pet the other’s now short hair, intending to calm him down until he could perhaps make sense again.

Once the other’s breathing pattern trailed into something more regular, Elijah grabbed the scissors he’d taken from him earlier. He scooted himself behind him and began to properly and evenly cut the rest of the hair in a way that actually gave it style. Gavin sat quietly and let it happen, grateful but unable to voice it.

“Do you want me to run you a bath?” Elijah suggested. Gavin, not quite trusting his voice yet, just nodded. Elijah got to his feet slowly as to not disturb the other. As the lukewarm water began to fill the rather overzealous rich people bathtub, he went and helped the other up. “Do you want me to…?” He trailed off, gesturing to his messy clothes.

Gavin contemplated, looking at the ground in deep thought for a moment before shaking his head and ushering his younger sibling out. Elijah went without fight and waited until the door shut and locked to finally allow the shaky exhale to exit him. He looked at his trembling hands in confusion and surprise (and perhaps slight annoyance). Who knew it was so stressful to be supportive?

He went into Gavin’s room and grabbed some clothes. He unfortunately had no idea where the binders were so he’s settled for grabbing a thinly horizontally black striped dark grey shirt and a pair of beige pants from his closet then proceeded to go into his own room and grab a loose, maroon zip-up hoodie. He walked back to the bathroom and rose his hand to knock, but the door opened anyways.

Gavin reached for the clothes silently and shut the door again to get dressed. He came out with his hands buried in the hoodie’s pockets, as expected. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat,” Elijah said, leading the other downstairs. Gavin stopped mid step and furrowed his brows, shaking his head slowly. Elijah tilted his own.

“Not hungry?” He filled in, to which Gavin nodded. “Well… you’ll eat at some point, but not now, I suppose.” At his stammering, a small smile pulled at Gavin’s lips. He still sucked at the “siblings” thing. They both did, really. But his attempts endeared Gavin. Elijah looked away, embarrassed, but content. He’d gotten a sort of reaction out of Gavin other than his dead look. That’s a win. Maybe he could drag him to the piano for more wins.

The twitch of his lips fell almost immediately the second the front door clicked. Elijah’s eyes widened as his eyes shot to one of the many clocks on the wall. It was too early for either of their parents to be back home, so why were they here now? He was trying to take care of Gavin, and he knew they were going to ruin everything he’d done.

One look at Gavin had proven him right. The other had gone considerably pale and his quaking returned almost full force. He reached for him reassuringly, turning him around gently and they began to quickly make their way back to the stairs in hopes of going undisturbed by the richer equivalents of Dumb and Dumber.

“Where is that little  _snake?!_ ” Such hopes were diminished in an instant as their father’s voice boomed throughout the house. Their mother trailed in after him, waving one of the maids to shut the front door as she stumbled on her heels behind him. “Oh, do go easy on her dear, she’s probably had a very hard day—” The pushover tried to speak, but the Kamski father didn’t want to hear it.

Literally, he plugged his fingers into his ears and cancelled the woman’s voice out rather immaturely. “Does she know how costly it is to bribe police?! They could have thought her a potential suspect for running away while the stupid building was on lockdown!” Anthony shouted indignantly. “Does she know what an accusation like that could do to the reputation of  _my_ company?!”

Finally, he spotted the man of the hour and began to strut towards him in pure rage. “Evangeline Kamski, you are in  _big trouble_ young lady! The little stunt you pulled today—” Suddenly, the man faltered in both his step and his words. His rage turned to fury as his round face turned completely red. “What in the seven hells have you done to your hair?!”

“My name’s Gavin.” Elijah choked on his own saliva and for the first time ever Gavin was composed while he was not. He turned to look at him with wide eyes then at his disbelieving parents, worry skyrocketing. Usually they were pretty predictable, everyone was, but every scenario he’d ran through his head was one that he hoped and prayed wouldn’t happen.

“Excuse me?” Cherrie inquired in confusion, ever so stupid, but their father seemed to catch on faster. “What is the meaning of this?!” He shouted, taking a threatening step forward. Gavin didn’t move, or emote much at all, just craned his neck to look at the man with the same flat expression. “My name isn’t Evangeline. It’s Gavin. It’s never been Evangeline, but you’ve always had your head too far up your own ass to see it.”

If it was possible for Anthony’s face to get redder it just did. Humiliation did wonders with the rich. However, the man rose his hand up in the air and growled intensely, making eye contact with Gavin as if trying to tell him that it was his last chance to take back his appalling words. When he didn’t Anthony shouted and brought his down.

“No!” Elijah interjected, stepping in front of Gavin. One ending to this scenario was that his father’s hand would stop upon realizing who it was in current danger of getting hit, but that was not the case. The back of mister Kamski’s hand connected with Elijah’s face for the first time in his life. The hit was so much harder than he’d ever anticipated, he actually stumbled from the force of it.

Then he’d tripped over his own feet and his head slammed into the chair of the piano. He bounced off like a ragdoll and fell onto his back, unconscious.

Cherrie  _screamed_  at the sight of blood seeping from her prodigy’s head and pooling on her white carpet. Anthony looked at his hand as if shocked it would betray him and do such a thing. Before either could even move, Gavin had already knelt next to his brother and hyperventilated violently enough to come close to passing out himself.

“He’s— Y-You— _He’s_ —” As he stuttered, he was suddenly pulled by the back of his shirt and taken away from Elijah. Their parents knelt next to him in worry and shouted at the maids to call ambulances and get first aid kits. Cherrie whipped around to look at Gavin with a sharp, venomous look he didn’t know such a naive woman was capable of adopting.

_“It’s all your fault!”_

Ah. The fated words.

Gavin froze at the sentence. Cherrie suddenly stood up and clenched her fists at her sides, baring her teeth at him. “You are to leave my house this instant, you monster!” She shouted, pointing at the front door with a manicured fingernail. “You’re not a Kamski! You never were and you never will be! Now  _get the hell out!”_

Without thinking twice, Gavin obeyed, running out the front door like it was the last thing he’d ever do. It was nighttime so he could barely see where he was going, all he knew was that he had to keep running. As long as he was running, no one can ever catch him again. Not for being a failure. Not for being Gavin.

He didn’t get to sleep. Or eat. Or drink. He was going to nap at a bus stop but decided against it, knowing that he had to keep moving. But he did pause at the bus stop for another reason. He studied the map to the best of his knowledge and tried to keep it all in memory. He had a phone on him but it had died overnight. Not like he could charge it anywhere. With what even?

Anyways. He was getting the hell out of Baltimore, for good.

He knew the way to go, the closest road out of the city. He didn’t have any exact plans, just to get out of Baltimore. So the second he was on a deserted travel road, he was going to hitchhike his final escape. Where? Who knows. But for now, Gavin had a direction to keep walking through. And so began his tread to leave Baltimore.

He didn’t know how long he walked. It could have been minutes, hours, days (the last one is impossible it hadn’t even become nighttime again yet) even, but he kept walking. The hunger he could deal with, but he was extremely thirsty. He was walking on the travel road with his thumb extended but no one seemed to slow down so he just continued walking with one thumb out.

He’d been walking for at least almost a day, perhaps four hours away from a 24-hour mark, before he’d realized that he was most definitely fucked. He didn’t get time to grab any supplies or any money or anything, he had just run. And now he was probably going to die of thirst after just one day of not drinking anything.

Gavin coughed almost violently then plopped down onto the side of the road, curling himself up into a ball and looking as small as possible. And yet, somehow, someway, that’s the  _one_ time someone stops for him. A small black car slowed down as it approached then proceeded to pull over in front of Gavin’s location. He looked up curiously and suspiciously.

Someone stepped out and Gavin nearly started crying. It was a teen that had a head of dark brown curls and striking blue eyes. He reminded him too much of both Ken and Elijah. Looking at him made him briefly wonder if the latter was alright. Last he’d seen he’s split his head open on a piano’s chair so he couldn’t really tell.

“Kid? You okay?” The person asked. Gavin stood up and dusted his clothes. “No,” Gavin responded deadpanned. The other laughed, seemingly appreciating the other’s honesty. “I figured,” he jested, “can I help you with anything? Why are you out here all by yourself?” Gavin scowled at the questions before his eyebrows softened slightly. All he could think of was when he got defensive with Melissa and Ken when they’d uttered the implication of him needing assistance. He hated remembering things.

Gavin almost forgot that the other was waiting for a response until he’d cleared his throat. “Some food, water, and a ride to the furthest place away from Baltimore would be great,” Gavin replied sarcastically, though that was exactly what he’d needed. The boy’s brows furrowed in confusion and he stared at Gavin as if he’d grown two extra heads.

He paused as if trying to find the right words. “...Baltimore?” He repeated. “Kid, you do realize you’re on the outskirts of Fredrick, right? That’s ways away from Baltimore on foot.” At the words, Gavin actually smirked. So he’d managed to get the fuck away from that hellhole,  _without_  help. He most definitely needed it now, but he still counted the victory.

“Alright, you know what? Just get in,” the stranger said, entering their car and unlocking the passenger seat for Gavin. The younger teen stared at the door for all of two seconds before he threw all caution out the window and just climbed into the car. Immediately, a bag was dropped into his lap. As he rummaged through it, he found water and food and other goodies that were practically useless as opposed to the first two. The driver cleared his throat again.

“So,” he began slowly, then extended his hand to Gavin, “my name’s Scott. Scott Reed.”

Gavin looked at the hand as if it offended him more than the idea of getting in a car with a complete stranger did. Eventually he took it. As he did, he briefly considered introducing himself as ‘Evangeline,’ just to make sure that the other wouldn’t kill him or leave him were his name ‘Gavin’ instead. Then he said fuck it, because that would defeat the entire purpose. He needed to know what this man’s stance on his little predicament was.

“Gavin,” he settled, shaking the hand. He saw the other, Scott, look him up and down then shrug. As he brought his keys out and stuck them in the car, he turned to Gavin. “So you really have no preference as to where you’re going?” Gavin nodded in agreement, looking out the window for a moment. “Guess I’ll just drop you off at my stop.” Gavin turned to him curiously. “What’s your stop?” He inquired before he could help it.

Scott turned to him with a grin as he spun the keys in the car.

“Detroit, Michigan.”


	2. That's the End of That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO! Guys, I did it! I told you I'd do it! I did it! Ugh, I'm so proud of myself. Sure, it took ages, but did I do it? The answer is yes. Now to wait another half a year for chapter three!
> 
> PS. As usual, not proofread, lotsa mistakes, yadda yadda. Get off me dick.

The first fourteen minutes of the ride were complete silence. Gavin knows, he counted. He only did so because Scott kept glancing at him not-so-subtly every two seconds. Gavin knew exactly what the boy wanted to ask. He tried to keep himself in check and wait for the other to speak his mind, he wasn’t the most patient after all,  but he ended up snapping at him anyway.

“If you have something to say then just say it,” he bit out, still looking out the window as he curled into a ball on the passenger’s seat. Scott visibly reacted, jumping in his seat. He coughed awkwardly, turning away to hide his red face, embarrassed at being caught. He kept his eyes on the road for a bit before sighing in defeat, knowing that ignoring the other would be rude.

He cleared his throat then spoke. “So…” He began smoothly, “ _Gavin,_  huh?”

Despite seeing it coming, the boy still flinched. “Yeah,” he replied, reluctancy clear in his response. He was tempted to add  _‘got a problem with that?’_  but decided against it. After all, Scott clearly had the upper hand here. Not only was Gavin obviously younger than him, but they were in his car and (presumably) heading to his hometown.

As Gavin thought out just how  _vulnerable_ he currently is, a crease formed between his brows. Scott didn’t seem to notice the other’s disturbance. Gavin stilled his shaking hands and prepared himself on the defensive (as usual) as the other cleared his throat once more and opened his mouth to further press the matter. “I mean like…  _just_ Gavin?”

Gavin faltered, turning to him and staring as if he’d grown another head. Scott chuckled drily. “Not what you expected?” He asked, an almost knowing smirk on his lips despite the clear distaste in his words. Gavin blinked, grey eyes wide and most certainly confused. Not trusting his voice, the younger one only nodded.

“Yeah, I figured,” Scott muttered, all hint of light-heartedness gone, “but that’s your business, not mine. I was asking about a last name.” Gavin stared with wide eyes for a moment before they proceeded to narrow in suspicion.  _“Why?”_  The question came out more of a demand than an inquiry. Gavin wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking about. Why he wanted a last name? Why it wasn’t his business?

Scott eyed him as he tried to pick out the correct words, demeanor cautious as if he were dealing with a ticking time bomb. Gavin doesn’t blame him, but he also couldn’t blame himself for his suspicion. He’s spent his life surrounded by people who somehow felt entitled to tell him what his own gender and preferences were and everyone who hasn’t minded got the brunt end of the stick.

It made Gavin realize: he was just a bad luck charm.

At least he’s away from Elijah now. He won’t be able to hurt him all the way from Detroit. Ken wasn’t so lucky, after all.

His own thought startled him. It just gave him more reason to believe he was responsible for what happened, for all of the death and suffering. All he’d been thinking about for the past day(s?) was what had transpired in a mere few hours. Every event had followed the other so fast he barely had time to think about it then, but now? Now it completely consumed him. He hated it, but he knew he deserved it. It made him realize the magnitude of his fuck ups. It made him wonder what Scott would think if he knew he had a living omen in his car.

Gavin turned to look at the other teen only to find him opening his mouth to respond, seemingly finding the words he was searching for. “I just want to know if you were kicked out or if you ran away,” Scott explained, taking his hands off the steering wheel and throwing his arms in the air for a brief moment to signify surrender.

The younger boy looked at him with a fight in his eyes but then huffed in defeat. “Both. Neither,” he paused, brows furrowing in confusion. He sighed exhaustedly and looked away, resting his head on the window and looking out of it at their dark and empty surroundings. “It’s complicated,” he settled, wishing he could somehow further curl up into a smaller ball than he was in.

Scott glanced at him for a moment and Gavin saw the pity clearly through the reflection on the window. He scowled, shutting his eyes. He wanted to ask him why he wanted to know something like that, why he’d ask for such a specific detail, but he honestly didn’t even care at that point. Maybe he was asking to see if anyone would care if he killed him. Maybe he just wanted to know if he had anywhere he could go back and drop him off at. Gavin found he was too tired to give a damn.

The other boy sighed. “Yeah, I bet it is,” he murmured, brows furrowed in sympathy. His eyes wandered to the little blinking numbers on the screen before him and clicked his tongue. “It’s a seven hour drive until we reach Detroit and you look like death itself,” he started, “I’m gonna go ahead and say you should sleep for a bit.”

Gavin turned to him and rose an incredulous eyebrow. Scott rolled his eyes but made no further comment. Gavin glanced at the bag the other had dropped into his lap a few minutes ago. He’d already eaten about a third of the chocolate bars in there and drank a full water bottle. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to eat so much; it wasn’t like he was starved

He discarded the thought then set the bag down on the car’s floor where his own feet should be and remained curled up in a tight ball, wrapping his arms around his knees and looking out the window once more. And try his mightiest he did to fight off the weight that settled upon him and forced his eyelids to droop every so often but eventually he lost the battle, his eyes shutting as he slipped away from consciousness.

Dare Gavin say it was the most comfortable sleep in his life because it definitely was not. He wasn’t in a giant bed softer than the clouds and probably cost more than his soul did. He barely registered the voice talking to him as his shoulder was repeatedly tapped. He groaned in protest and tried to blink the grogginess out of his eyes, still not quite grasping where he was.

The fact that he was waking up, implying that he’d fallen asleep at all, sharpened all of his senses in one moment. He sat up in alarm, realizing he was out of his safety ball with a seat belt over his torso. It was dark as shit so he couldn’t even try to analyze his surroundings. His head whipped to the driver’s seat where Scott’s hands were already up in surrender.

“Woah, hey, chill out!” He exclaimed, despite Gavin not saying anything. It was probably the glare. “I tried to wake you up at every single gas stop but you literally slept like the dead so I gave up,” explained the older teen, shrugging helplessly and putting his hands down. He reached down and pressed on something, their seat belts coming undone at the action.

“Where are we?” Gavin demanded, not daring to take his eyes off the other for a single moment. Scott pursed his lips to hold back a smile. The other continued to stare at him expectantly, eyebrow raised challengingly. Unable to keep his act up, Scott snickered. He unlocked the doors and spared the other only a short glance and a smile. “Welcome to Detroit.”

Gavin blinked repeatedly as the other exited the vehicle. Then, he scrambled with the handle for a moment before practically throwing the door off its hinges. He stumbled out and once he managed to actually stand on his two feet, he looked around. He was surrounded by a couple of small houses, obviously a neighborhood, but beyond that…

Beyond that were tall city buildings, ones he’d never seen before. He wasn’t new to the sights of a city, Baltimore and all, but there was a certain charm to the buildings he saw that he couldn’t describe. The most prominent difference was that there was a hell of a lot more of the color  _blue._ And that alone made it fully sink in.

He was in Detroit, Michigan. Far, far away from Baltimore, Maryland.

He could feel himself choking up and he hated it. He hated that just getting away from that place, that place he never called home, was an accomplishment. And yet he couldn’t help but feel proud of himself, despite everything that transpired in order to get him here. People have literally died for him to get here, but he  _got_ here, so fuck everyone else. He’s fucking  _here_.

Scott cleared his throat from behind him, cutting his trail of thought was most likely going to sink into guilt for merely feeling happiness he didn’t deserve. “Whenever you’re ready to go inside let me know,” he called as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and pulled his shoulders upwards, shivering, “it’s cold as hell out here.”

Gavin turned around to face the other in confusion. “Inside?” He repeated inquisitively, “inside where?” Scott paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes as if the question was bizarre. “Inside… my house,” he said slowly, pointing a thumb behind himself. A house that looked no bigger than one story stared back at Gavin as he analyzed it.

He took a wary step back and frowned. “Why the fuck are we at your house?” The younger boy hissed accusingly, fists clenched and knees bent as if he were ready to fend someone off and make a break for it. Scott didn’t seem to notice and if he did he didn’t react to the other’s defensiveness. Instead, he just scoffed in disbelief.

“What, were you expecting me to drop you off at Detroit’s welcoming sign or something?” Despite the sarcasm, Gavin could tell there was actual question behind the words. “Yes,” he deadpanned, lips still curled in disapproval and suspicion. Scott’s eyebrows shot upwards in shock. “Dude. You obviously don’t know anyone here. I couldn’t just leave a kid in the middle of a city they’ve never been in.”

Gavin scowled. “I don’t know you either,” he pointed out. Scott rolled his eyes, much to Gavin’s annoyance. “Maybe you don’t but as of right now I’m your best bet buddy.” The younger one really didn’t like his tone but, still, he had a point. It was true that Gavin didn’t know shit about Detroit while Scott probably knew it like the back of his hand. He was at a disadvantage. Again. Had it ever been any other way?

He shook his head to clear it, surveying the other up and down. “Who else is in there?” He managed to ask without sounding paranoid. Or maybe he didn’t, if Scott’s incredulous expression was anything to go by. The other sighed, as if relenting to a child’s wishes. “Just my mom,” he said, pulling his phone out to look at it briefly, “but we should probably not make too much noise, she should be asleep by now. It’s really late.”

The two kept standing there, each staring the other down almost challengingly, before Scott suddenly threw his arms up and groaned loudly. “Oh for  _fu_ —yeah, fine, okay. If you don’t wanna come in then fine, whatever. But  _mi casa, su casa_  or whatever,” he snapped, quickly turning on his heel and stomping his way towards his own house. Gavin watched him warily, eyeing him up and down as he mumbled what were obviously curses underneath his breath while aggressively waving his keys.

He unlocked his front door then turned again, staring at Gavin. The shorter boy stood with clenched fists and stared right back at him. Then, he relented, walking towards the other slowly. Scott's expression eased into something more like relief as he turned around and walked into his own house, waiting for Gavin to follow him. The other was still tense but he went anyway, not bothering to cling to any useless hope that he wasn't walking into a trap.

Scott was waiting for him to walk in so that he can shut the door behind him and no matter how much he tried to convince himself he didn't jump when the other did, he couldn't deny that the sound gave him a sense of finality. Unable to tell whether it was a good or bad feeling, Gavin's breath quickened as he strained his eyes to remain watching Scott's every move in the dark as well as try analyzing his surroundings based on the widows he saw from the outside.

He didn't have to very long as the other flicked a light switch on from behind him. As fast as the action happened, someone was suddenly running at Gavin, only evident to him from the increasing sound of thumping on the ground. He whirled around as if expecting it and rose his hands up, ready to fend for himself if need be.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Scott shouted, walking forward and halting Gavin's potential assailant in their tracks. “Mom, chill out! It's just me!” He paused, glancing at Gavin then back forward. “And a friend,” he added hesitantly. Gavin rose an eyebrow at him. So, he picks him up off the side of the road, feeds him, lets him sleep, and invites him into his house, yet hesitates to call him friend.

_“So we’re friends, are we?”_

Gavin chokes on nothing, eyes widening for a moment before he straightens himself out, coughing into his fist. He chalked up his eyes watering to him momentarily being unable to breath and not the fresh wound the memory just tore apart. He blinks the not-tears away and pounds his chest, looking at the scene in front of him with his usual automatically narrowed eyes and frown.

A rather short woman clad in an ivory button up and a pair of purple shorts that barely surpassed them (how is she not shivering?) stood behind Scott, frying pan raised high as she glared at him cautiously. Her raven hair trailed all the way beyond her waist to her hips in a mess that could only be described as bedhead. She averted her wary hazel eyes from him and onto her son, scowling at him and placing her fists on her hips, an almost too well-known “mom pose.”

“Young man, do you have  _any_  idea how long I've been waiting for you to show up?!“ She reprimands immediately. Gavin's eyebrows shoot upwards as Scott emits an immature teenage groan. “Shouldn't you be, like, asleep?” He asks, rather rudely in Gavin's opinion. “Don't catch an attitude, Scott. I haven't even thrown it yet. It's a valid question,“ she scoffs, crossing her arms as she looks up at the tall nineteen year old.

Then, she shifts her weight from one foot to another and turns her attention to Gavin. The younger teen freezes as they both set their eyes on him at the same time. “And who's that?” She asks Scott, waving her arm in Gavin's general direction. Her eyes widen briefly and she turns back to him. “If you tell me that this is some sort of step-sister that I suddenly have to take care of now that that prick's gone, let me tell you, you are  _sorely_  mistaken—“

_“Mom,_ mom. It's nothing like that,” the teen laughs, covering her petite hands and setting them down from their wild flailing. He turns to the shorter boy and smiles tightly, as if silently telling him to brace himself. “This is Gavin,” Scott introduces, “I picked  _him_  up on my way back when I saw him sitting on his own somewhere on the outskirts of Frederick.”

Like Scott had when Gavin first introduced himself to him, the mother gives him a quick up-and-down scan at the pronoun. Gavin ground his teeth but kept a strong gaze on the woman, fists clenched at his sides, waiting for her to address the elephant in the room. She frowned as she turned towards her son once more and opened her mouth wide, no doubt to shout disgusted and disapproving words.

“Since when do we pick up hitchhikers?” was what came out of her mouth instead. Gavin felt his jaw slacken in disbelief. Scott crossed his arms slowly but defiantly. “Since now,” he replied with narrowed eyes, “no one else was helping him.” He paused, then spoke again with a softer voice. “I couldn't just leave him there.”

The two stared at each other with stern glares, one hazel and one blue, until finally his mother relented, sighing and closing her eyes. Gavin hadn't realized how much he'd tensed up until his shoulders sagged, a dull ache spreading through him in their place. He let out a shaky breath through his nose, more relieved than he thought he would be. Why did her opinion matter so much to him? It wasn't like he was sticking around.

… He  _wasn't,_ damn it.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a soft whimper that came from behind all three humans. They all turned to look and there at the bottom of the doorway was a small, slender cat, coat a rich black and eyes a piercing blue, not too nonidentical from Scott’s. At least they would be, were they not wide as saucers in confusion and wonder. She emitted another gentle meow and approached them confidently.

It became apparent to Gavin that she was heading straight for him from the insistent eye contact she held with him. He never thought he'd see the day where a cat intimidated him but here he was, swallowing with difficulty as she bee-lined for him. At a fair distance she paused, looking at him closely as if assessing his next move.

Gavin finally breaks eye contact and raises his head to look at the two people helplessly. They were both looking down however, eyes trained on the cat. He huffed through his nose and narrowed his eyes at the cat, pursing his lips. He couldn't pretend to annoyed for long though; he always did have a soft spot for felines. His expression slackened and he crouched, extending his hand cautiously but invitingly.

The cat leaned forward, sniffing his hand curiously. Gavin can't imagine he smelled good, being who knows how long on the road, but the animal didn't seem to be complaining. The little black dot that acted as her nose shuffled slightly as she continued to sniff him. She pulled back and looked up at Gavin, tilting her head as if she couldn't decide what to do with him.

The boy seemed to momentarily forget about everyone else around him since a large grin broke out onto his face as he stared back at the cat's innocent face. Anyone with half a brain had to admit that the feline was positively adorable. The cat seemed to take that as her answer and proceeded to bury her face into his open hand, a sound of a motor gradually increasing coming from her as she purred in comfort and satisfaction.

A bark of laughter startled Gavin back to reality. He almost snapped his hand back to himself in surprise but he couldn't really deny the cat the pets she was receiving. Instead he opted to look up questioningly at the woman. She had her arms crossed and her lips twisted upwards into an amused smile, her eyes much gentler than they were earlier as she looked back at him.

“Well, if Pixel likes you then you can't be too bad,” she snickered, extending her own hand to him to help him up. Gavin looked at the limb instead of grabbing it, bewildered that the opinion of a cat had caused an entire change of demeanor. He rose an eyebrow to let her know how he felt but reached for her hand either way, allowing her to pull him up to his feet.

Instead of letting go, the woman shifted the position of her hand into one that allows her to shake their hands in greeting. “Riley Reed,” she says, shaking their hands in a smooth up and down motion. Her tone was light and genuine, almost as if she were suddenly completely alright with the idea of a random stranger standing in her house and petting her cat. “The tree here is my son Scott, as I'm sure you're aware.”

The boy stared at her dumbly for a moment, not realizing that she'd said their names in introduction. Once he did, he cleared his throat and did the same. “Gavin,” he replies evenly, subconsciously much more comfortable. She tilted her head at him, silently questioning the incomplete name, but he tightened his already tight flat expression.

She nodded in understanding, finally letting go of his hand. “I'd start discussing with you the details of your stay but I honestly just want to go to bed,” the woman laughs tiredly, “it's midnight and I have to be awake in seven hours maximum.” Scott snickers easily at his mother's misfortune, causing her to playfully smack his arm, glaring but not quite.

Gavin watched the interaction unfold in awe, not realizing his mouth had parted as he did. He was completely unfamiliar with the idea of a parent-child relationship. The only family he had ever had was Elijah, and even he was off who-knows-where doing who-knows-what with that Amanda lady. He couldn't blame his brother though. Gavin would hang out with any other adult than their parents. And from how fondly Elijah would speak of her, he couldn't help but feel jealous of the fact that  _everyone_  has a parent figure but himself.

A sick feeling fell into his stomach as his last memory of Elijah resurfaced in his mind.  _‘Yes, be jealous of the boy who got his head split open for you, why don't you,’_ he thought, a bitter taste poisoning his mouth. His jaw locked shut noisily as he quite literally shook his head to rid himself of the thought. Scott rose a confused eyebrow but his mother didn't address the action at all, merely swinging the pan around as she crossed her arms again.

“You can have the guest bedroom. It's the third door down the—”

“Guest bedroom?” Scott interrupted in disbelief, looking at his mother with wide incredulous eyes. “Do you mean  _Dad's_ room?” He asks, with a tone that dares her to contradict. Gavin immediately feels like he's at a friend's house and they began to quarrel with their parents, before the argument even began. Not that he'd know what that felt like. He didn't go to many people's houses, if at all.

Riley's expression strained into something akin to exasperation. “It's a guest room, Scott. He just stayed in it whenever he decided to show up,” she corrects sharply but not unkindly. Gavin didn't know the whole story or its specifics but he could fill in the blanks. Riley and her partner were not married but they did have a child that apparently the father only visited once in a while.

“And besides,” she continues, “it's not like he'd complain if it was his room. He's dead.” The shorter boy's eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the words. The woman certainly didn't breach the topic delicately, not one to play around the bush. He liked her. Still, to say it so casually…

Scott frowned, crossing his arms as well. “Geez mom, at least make it sound like you didn't kill him when you talk about it.” Gavin's head whipped to look at her so fast he could've broken it. His eyes were wide with alarm, wondering just what the hell he'd gotten into. Did he just get picked up by actual literal murderers?

“Hah! I wish,” Riley (hopefully) jested. Gavin heaved a breath of relief. Good, so they weren't killers. The woman noticed his reaction and barked out a loud laugh, catching onto his train of thought. “That's what Scott was doing all the way out in Washington, attending his father's funeral,” she explained. Suddenly, she snorted. “Out of all the ways he could've died, overdosing on Viagra sounds the most accurate for him.”

_“Mom,”_ Scott mutters, just the tiniest bit of hurt in his voice. Riley's brows furrow and she smiles apologetically. “Sorry, sweetheart,” she says, placing a hand on the taller teen's face. Scott smiles in return, accepting her brief apology. Gavin glances between them in obvious discomfort, unsure whether he should address anything or not.

The Reeds don't seem the slightest bit bothered by having an audience, just a mother and son having a conversation. Riley removes her hand and turns back to Gavin, her wrinkled eyes gentle but tired. She looked so young to him but the dark bags under her eyes made her seem much older than she probably actually was. Gavin could only guess that being a single mother to a brat like Scott wasn't easy on the woman. He's only known the older boy for a few hours and he's never been this puzzled.

“Scott, you're not gonna skip college today, are you?“ Riley asks, glancing at one of the clocks on the wall. “It's a Thursday, so your first course is at noon. I think you've got more than enough time.” The older teen blinks for a moment, as if questioning if his mother had actually asked him that, then gestures not so subtly in Gavin's general direction. “But he'll be alone.”

Gavin knows enough not to be offended. The  _‘I can take care of myself’_ remark died on his lips before it had a chance. He's aware it's not about that. It's about leaving a complete stranger in your house for who knows how long. And one in a state such as Gavin's, of course he'd be suspected of robbing half their shit and making off with it. Lord knows he needs it, but he wouldn't. He hadn't even thought about it until it was brought up.

Riley rolls her eyes at the words, well aware that her son used him as a flimsy excuse to skip another day of the education she pays for. “I'll bail the afternoon shift. He'll only be alone for thirty minutes. Not enough to rob us blind.” Lie, for his sake it seems. Gavin knows where to look if he was interested in stealing money or prized possessions, he's read enough crime and mystery books, but it seemed like Riley trusted him enough not to utilize said knowledge. He wasn't sure if it was pity or naivety. She didn't seem like the type to fall for either.

Before Scott could respond, Riley sighs. “This conversation is dragging on too long and I want to go to bed. We done here?“ She asks with a tone of finality that said that even if they weren't, they probably are now. It was still inquisitive enough to suggest that she was still willing to listen to Gavin if he wanted to protest or add something. When neither of the boys said anything, she went into the kitchen to put the pan away then walked down the hall.

“Night, boys,” she says casually with a wave of her hand, like she's known both of them, not just one, her whole life. It sent an unfamiliar feeling through Gavin, thoroughly confusing the shit out of him. He grappled at his shirt (pointedly ignoring that he's been without a bra or binder this whole time) as if he were in physical pain, watching the woman go with a furrow in his brows. Scott looked at him as if he wanted to say something but thought better of it, flattening his lips and shutting the lights then walking down the hall himself.

Gavin observed as the mother and son went to their own rooms, one on the right and one on the left, just a fair distance from each other. A third door, also on the right, was at the furthest end of the hall, supposedly where Gavin was supposed to go. He proceeded with caution, as if expecting one of the doors that had just closed to burst open and have someone jump from inside and grab him or attack him.

When he makes it to the room unscathed, he feels the dumbest he’s ever felt in a long while (that’s a lie). He smacks his hand on the wall a couple of times as he feels for a light switch that he flicks on when he finds. He narrows his eyes in adjustment to the light then assesses the room. A single double bed with metal bedstead and a green blanket lay in the middle of the room. The rest of it was scattered with wooden nightstands (decorated with one lamp each), a closet, and a dresser, all the same shade of brown.

There was a full-length mirror next to the closet that Gavin completely ignored, bee-lining for the bed and collapsing onto the mattress. Despite himself, he exhaled loudly, almost groaning as his head hit the pillow. He was a so-called “rich kid,” being deprived of a soft bed for as long as he was was almost traumatizing, possibly even more traumatizing than the  _actually_ traumatizing events he’d experienced that led to him being deprived of said soft bed.

...Yeah, no, too much. Gavin chuckled to himself and shifted into a more comfortable position. He laid on his front, stuck one arm under the pillow while the other swung over it next to his head, bent one of his legs at the knee while the other remained straight, and turned his head to the side. He hadn’t bothered getting underneath the blankets because despite his little seven-hour nap in Scott’s car, he was out like a damn light.

_Now_  he dares to say it was the most comfortable sleep he had. It was dreamless (thank  _God_ ) and peaceful and rather prolonged, not that he'd know. The next time he was roused from slumber was not by insistent, annoying tapping to his shoulder but by a soft shuffling noise far, far away from him. The noise was too low to really wake anyone up but in an instant Gavin had jumped up and turned to look at the source of the sound in alarm, paranoia getting the better of him as his memories rushed back to him.

Riley's gentle eyes met his. “Woah, easy, kiddo,” she said slowly, “just me.” Gavin had to bite back a snarky comment of how that was supposed to make him feel better, only because he wasn't sure if his voice would betray him and break. He glanced at her hands then back at her quickly, an unspoken question of what she was just doing in his eyes. She lifts her hands to show him what she's holding and opens her mouth to explain as well.

“I figured you'd want to shower first thing in the morning so I was bringing you something to change into.” She sets them down on the dresser and huffs. “They're some of Scott's old clothes. He was, and still is, kind of a lanky kid, so I figured they'd fit you just fine for now.” Gavin wanted to narrow his eyes at the  _‘for now’_ , but he can't help but continue to stare at the clothes with wide eyes. The closest Gavin had ever gotten to wearing “boy clothes” were jackets he stole ( _borrowed_ ) from Elijah, but before him was an entire outfit bought from the men's section.

It was like Riley had been reading his mind because she only gave him a knowing look and took a step back. “Bathroom's the door down the hall,” she guides, “I'll be in the kitchen. Come to me when you're done, yeah?“ Gavin watches her curiously as she pauses in the doorway. He nods, so she nods in return then turns on her heel and leaves. He blinks at the spot where she once stood.

Swinging his legs off of the bed, he hisses once his feet touched the cold wooden floor. As he grabbed the clothes given to him and headed for the door, he couldn't help wondering why she wanted to see him. It was mostly to discuss how long he'd be staying and on what conditions, but Gavin couldn't think of a single way the conversation could go. Would it go well? Would she kick him out in a mere few days, maybe even hours? Would she suggest some sort of crazy condition he couldn’t possibly follow?

He shook his head, closing the bathroom door behind him and ridding himself of his clothes. Whatever she would throw at him, he could handle. He's been through hell and back, he's sure he can handle whatever she would be willing to offer. Who knows, she might even end up sending him off to someone else's house or ratting him out to the cops. Which would suck quite a bit. He may not have known her for too long, but he'd definitely miss Pixel too much.

He let the scalding water finally run down his body, scowling at the fact that he'd gotten so messy that some of the water was discolored and grimy. He supposed being on the side of the road and occasionally sitting on it would dirty him up a little. He was never the prissy sort of rich kid anyway, he just frowned at how pathetic his whole situation was. His fate in the hands of a stranger that was kind enough to let him stay the night and even use her shower. Truly pathetic.

Gavin knew he shouldn't stay in the shower too long because if he did he would just never come out, wishing to delay the inevitable. Sighing, he slid the glass wall’s door and stepped out, begrudgingly reaching for the clothes. He looked in distaste at the bra that was hidden within the clothes (that certainly wasn't from the men's section) but put it on nonetheless, knowing Riley had no ill intentions by placing it there and that, in the end, he still needed it anyway.

The clothes were… For lack of better word, odd. A sleeved yellow undershirt with a grey t-shirt to go over it and a pair of brown sweatpants. Gavin wasn't really in a place to complain about the style though. But as he dressed himself, he came to a realization. His body was far too thin, if the fact that the sweatpants's waistband was several centimeters away from his hips was anything to go by. He blinked in surprise, staring at his rather pale skin. He'd never noticed just how… frail he was.

Cringing, he stared at the door in dread, standing half naked in the middle of the bathroom. He groaned as the red spread to his face before he'd even moved. The boy puffed his cheeks and trudged to the door quickly then opened it, peeking his head out. He opened his mouth, but no sound save for a disgruntled cough came out of him. A part of him hoped that he wouldn't actually have to do anything else beyond that but as the world continued to remain silent, he sighed in defeat.

“... Miss Reed?” Gavin called quietly, knowing full well his entire face had gone from pale to that dumb rosy color. A small whine escaped him when there was no response.  _‘Miss Reed?! What kind of shit is that, man?!’_ He thought to himself. “Riley, are you there?” He snapped, the words coming out louder than he intended, though the fact that they came out in the first place was an accomplishment to him. Something akin to the sound of a chair squealing on the ground followed by footsteps sounded. Then, from the very end of the hallway, the woman in question's head peered over the side of the wall.

“Yeah?” She replied simply. Gavin swore the embarrassment would kill him before anything else but he'd come this far, so he might as well go for it. “The pants don't fit,” he managed, trying to keep his voice as even as possible. Even though there was a considerable distance between them, he still saw her eyebrows shoot upwards. “They don't?“ The woman inquired, surprise crystal clear in her voice.

Gavin blinked for a moment, trying to think of a reason for her shock, then he realized. “Too loose,” he clarified. Riley smacked her forehead at that, laughing at her own expense. “Oh, right, of course,” she said with a shake of her head, “give me just a second.” And with that she moved forward. Even though she was obviously heading for one of the rooms’ doors, probably Scott’s, Gavin hurriedly slammed the bathroom door as if she was approaching him instead.

The woman outside halted for a moment, blinking at the prompt reaction. She pursed her lips and chose again to not address the teen's strange behavior, instead opting to turning to her son's room and rummage through his old clothes to find what she was looking for. Gavin hadn't known that she'd reacted so calmly and appropriately placed his face in his hands and made a miserable, mortified noise. Really, things couldn't get worse.

A knock at the door had him forced to open it and look the woman in the eyes once more. He didn't wait for any explanations or words to be exchanged, just snatched whatever she'd gotten for him out of her hands and shut the door. The entire situation was all kinds of awkward and mortifying and Gavin would very much prefer pretending it never happened in the first place, so that was exactly what he was going to do. He whipped the pants she got him in the air then extended his arms to take a good look at them.

Gavin's eyebrows rose very slowly as he surveyed the garment. Not only was he holding a pair of skinny jeans, but he was holding a pair of  _purple_ skinny jeans.

Scott had, or has, a very questionable style. The younger teen made no external comment (but proceeded to judge the pants silently) as he put the  _purple skinny jeans_  on. So now he was walking around in a yellow sleeved undershirt, a grey t-shirt, and a pair of purple skinny jeans. He wished he could take a look at himself in that long ass full-body mirror he'd avoided in the guestroom, but he supposed the tiny rectangular mirror on the medical cabinet above the sink would have to do.

The moment he'd turned to the glass he felt himself freeze entirely. His face was practically sinking within itself and he was so, so pale the bags underneath his eyes made him look like he'd been punched in the face twice. The freckles his cheeks were peppered with that differentiated him and his brother (other than biological gender and eye color) only served to amplify just how vulnerable and sickly he looked to himself. His grey eyes were almost completely hollow as they chased his disheveled hair's reflection and tried to make sense of himself.

This was his first good look at himself after the entire incident. He hadn’t thought he looked this bad. No wonder Scott picked him up from the side of that road. Hell,  _he'd_  pick him up off the side of the road and he's an asshole. The shirt(s) barely hugged his body's frame and Gavin wondered if it was possible that this wasn't a recent change. That he'd just… Looked like this all his life and no one had ever told him. Maybe that's why people never picked the fights he started. Not because he “was a girl,” but because he looked like a toothpick that was starved by his parents every other night.

A sick feeling rose to his stomach at the thought. All his life he'd been surrounded by people who pity him and he just never knew it. The Reeds probably pitied him as well. It's most likely the only reason they helped him. It makes sense; who would ever want to help him? It's not like the world is made of kind people that wish to aid one another, better yet aid a disgusting freak like him. People  _died_  for him and here he stood, looking like he'd brushed with death over three times.

He grit his teeth. It was like their deaths were… Pointless.

That was unacceptable.

Gavin straightened his back and squared his shoulders. A slow exhale left him as he clenched his fists around the sink almost hard enough to break his own fingers. He glared at his reflection like it offended him, and in a way, it did. The person that stared back at him couldn't possibly be what people have died for. Such a weak and defenseless figure. He stared, and it stared back. He scowled, and it scowled back. Almost like it didn't approve of him just as much as he didn't approve of it.

The boy chuckled humorlessly. He must be losing his mind, giving his own reflection thoughts and emotions.

After folding the useless sweatpants, Gavin set them on the washing machine then turned to the bathroom’s door and swung it open. He hadn’t even realized he was walking at all until he stepped into the kitchen, making Riley look up at him blankly and blink. They leveled each other with glares, one of purpose and one of confusion. The woman seemed to be attempting to analyze him and his sudden newfound resolve and he was only glaring back, as if trying to say  _‘bring it on._ ’

She gestured to the chair opposite to her and he sat, watching her as she joined her hands together and flattened her expression. “So,” she started, no lightness to her tone, “you don't have a place to stay.” She said, less a question and more a fact. “Yes,” Gavin replied, nodding curtly. “And we're your only good option.” The boy frowns because as much ad he desperately wanted to ignore it, she was right. At least she didn't sound smug as she said it. He might have gotten up and stormed off.

“Yes,” he says again, a tense edge to his voice. He glances at a clock on the wall and freezes in horror. The arrows read  _12:26 PM._

How on earth has he slept that long?  _Twice?_

“Kid, I'll keep it real with you,” Riley says loudly, cutting off his train of thought and drawing his attention back to her, “I don't in any way shape or form condone child labor but you're gonna have to get some sort of job to pay your end of the rent if you're gonna stay here ‘cause we're barely getting by as is.” Gavin blinks at her quick explanation and studies her tone carefully. She sounds displeased with her own words, seemingly not wanting to charge him for his stay.

“Yes,” Gavin agrees, and she raises an eyebrow. “Is that the only thing you know how to say?” She jests, but it seems to fall flat as the boy doesn't react in the slightest. The woman doesn't seem bothered at all and in fact continues to smile easily at him, which unfortunately works as his shoulders sag and his brows unfurrow. He doesn't know what it is, but there's something about Riley that just makes him feel safe. Like everything is going to be okay. (What a joke.)

She suddenly leans back onto her chair and grins. “Luckily for us, I happen to know someone that's had a ‘Help Wanted’ sign outside their business for quite sometime,” she adds. “When do you think you can go check it ou—”

“Now,” Gavin interrupts hurriedly, hands clenched in determination, fire back in his eyes. Riley blinked in surprise and frowned. “You sure, kid? You just got here,” she reasons. “First week's off charge if you want to settle in first,” she offers gently, tilting her head in an easygoing manner. Gavin, however, shook his at the suggestion. “No. I want to go now,” he says, then corrects, “I  _need_  to go now.”

Riley looks at him with an unreadable expression, eyes narrowed in a rather scrutinizing manner. Then she sighs and sits back, crossing her arms. “Well,” she says with a smirk, “good thing you're dressed.” She abruptly gets up and wanders into her own home. Gavin's eyes widened at the realization that he'd have to leave the house in  _this_  outfit. The red doesn't really have time to fill his face before Riley saunters back, a random purple ice cap in hand.

She approached him with raised hands, intent obvious. And yet, Gavin's eyes trained on her hands as he paled significantly, shoulders tensing. She was just going to put the ice cap on his head, he  _knows_ this, but he couldn't help the way he froze and looked at her with haunted eyes. And it seems she noticed because she suddenly halted, hands stopping in the air before slowly retracting, as if making sure he could see her and know she won't make any sudden movements.

Instead, she extended the cap to him with a neutral expression, as if nothing had happened at all. Gavin felt absolutely ridiculous. She was just trying to do something nice for him but he had to fuck it all up with his fucked-up-ness. She had nothing to do with the fact that his dad used to hit him. He shouldn't have assumed her to be a monster too. Now he's probably offended her and she's going to cancel her offer and kick him out because he's stupid,  _stupid, stu—_

“Put this on, it's cold out.” The words cut through his thoughts, startling him back and making him see in front of him once again. It seemed Riley was truly pretending as if the interaction hadn't happened, still trying to look out for him anyway. Gavin blinked repeatedly. He couldn't fully wrap his mind around it but it seemed like, for once, something he did didn't end up backfiring violently.

He slowly took the cap from her hand, almost bewildered at her calm reaction. The woman didn't address his expressions or actions at all, merely turning around and grabbing her keys from the coffee table. “C'mon, time we left then,” she says, motioning for him to come to her at the front door when he stood stone still for a little too long. He nearly tripped over his own feet, stumbling to follow her.

The car ride was silent, but it was nowhere near as awkward as Scott's was (before he slept like the dead). The quiet was comfortable and Gavin was awake enough to bask in the city outside whizzing past them. He was immensely excited, wanting to shoot for the stars with his new start in a new state. It would be as if Evangeline Kamski had never existed and, in a way, she never did. He would wipe the idea of her from his own mind and just finally start anew. If only he could get rid of the other traumas that way too.

Only when the car came to a halt did Gavin realize they'd reached their destination. The world outside was no longer whooshing by as they'd parked and Riley seemed just about to call out to him. He began to look around more liberally, turning left and right then smooshing his face on the window to see the outside. Riley let out a low snicker that he didn't seem to hear and opened her side of the car's door, throwing and encouraging “What're you waiting for?” at the enchanted boy.

What  _was_ he waiting for, Gavin agreed, and swung the door open, nearly falling out (again). He straightened and closed the door behind him, observing the establishment before him. A large brown multi-shaded building that was somewhere between a restaurant and a diner stood before him, a huge scroll-looking black-ish gray sign with  _“Monnie's”_ written on it in orange cursive hanging from above it. As Riley had said, a “Help Wanted” hung on one of the handles of the front glass doors’. He quickly realized Riley was approaching said glass doors and moved to follow her inside, a feeling of dread filling him as an idea that he prayed would not come to fruition dawned upon him.

“Honey, I'm home!” Riley exclaimed as she entered the food-orientation building, turning a few customers’ heads but disturbing no one. A door opened and a head peeked out, gasping in delight. “Riley!” A woman with a short brown bob and wide green eyes squealed, speeding towards the woman next to the teenager and wrapping her in a bone-crushing hug. Gavin thought he actually heard Riley wheeze as the life was squeezed out of her.

The mystery woman turned and ran back to the door, swinging it open and throwing her head back in. “Jordan! Come out here!” She shouted. In a matter of seconds, a woman that looked not too much older than the one who called her appeared, taking off what appeared to be a chef bandanna (fitting with her uniform) and looking around with worried eyes. “What? What's wrong, Monica?”

The other woman, now known as Monica, didn't respond verbally, only pointing at Riley with barely contained enthusiasm. Once the reddish-brown haired woman's eyes landed on the person in question, they widened before a grin split onto her face. “Reed!” She greeted, approaching Riley in a much more controlled manner and enveloping her in a hug in which she can actually breathe in.

She pulled back, hands still on Riley's shoulders as her dark brown eyes twinkled, truly happy to see the other. “It's been so long, Reed, where've you been?” She asked non-accusingly. Her expression turned sly as she added, “what, you just too good to visit ye ol'e Maurys nowadays? Huh? Too busy back out in the dating world?” She teased, holding the other in a side-shoulder hug as she wagged her eyebrows exaggeratedly at her.

Riley snorted and pushed Jordan off of her, rolling her eyes. “As  _if_ ,” the Reed says, “I'm  _done_  with men. All they do is  _lie_ .” Jordan cringed at the words and mumbled something underneath her breath that sounded a lot like  _“oof, yikes”_  before grinning again. “Never said it had to be a man you were looking for but okay.” She was already laughing by the time Riley's cheeks fully filled with red as she shoved her face away, still smiling despite.

“But really, where are you, Riley? We never see you anymore!” Monica complained, pouting slightly. Riley sighed as a guilty expression overtook her face. “I'm sorry, dears,” she apologizes, “things haven't been really easy on Scott and me. I'd come around more, but I've only got a twenty minute break at most between shifts and I'm too far from here to make it, you know the drill.” The two women nodded at each other sadly, seemingly knowing what she was talking about.

Riley suddenly sighed again, a lot more guilt-ridden than the one before it. “I wish I was here for pleasantries, but I've actually got something important I need to ask you.” The speech was broad enough to be received by both of them, but Riley mainly looked at Jordan as she spoke. The woman furrowed her brows in concern. “Everything okay?” She asked, crossing her arms and shifting her weight from one foot to another.

“Remember that favor you  _supposedly_  owe me?” The second Riley had spoken, Jordan's face turned serious. “Of course,” she responds, all lightheartedness gone from her tone, “you did us a real solid, Riley. I'll never forget it as long as I live.” The Reed rubs her temples and drags her hand down her face, as if hearing that somehow made it harder to ask for the favor. She didn't like feeling  _indebted to_ , it seems, not by Jordan nor Gavin. “I hate to be the kind of person to cash favors in, but I need your help with something.”

“Anything,” Jordan said without hesitation and Gavin's eyebrows fly upwards. He wonders what Riley did for them to warrant such loyalty. He also wonders if any of them have noticed his presence yet. But it seems he doesn't have to wonder for very long as Riley suddenly takes a step to the side and exposes him to the spotlight and both Jordan and Monica's eyes simultaneously fall on him.

He froze, staring back, completely unprepared. “This is Gavin,” Riley introduces, “and he needs a job ASAP.”

Jordan and Monica, who as Gavin continued to stare them down realized they look eerily similar, seem to contemplate what Riley said.  _Sisters_ , Gavin realizes, and shoved down the thought of Elijah before it even attempted to resurface. It seemed Monica was most likely the owner, if the restaurant's name was anything to go by, and Jordan was the head chef of the place, which is why they were being asked. Suddenly, Jordan straightened.

“What's your experience washing dishes?”

Well then. Gavin's not sure what he expected, but it wasn't that. He's glad it wasn't waitress-ing though. Before he even thought about, the brutal truth flew out of his mouth.

“Never washed a damn dish in my life.”

Jordan's eyebrows shot upwards almost in surprise as Monica snorted. Riley blinked at him and desperately tried to hold back shocked laughter. “Wow,” she said, “you're making a mean case for yourself here, kid.” Maybe, but Gavin wasn't going to lie. He was a rich kid. He had maids all over his house cleaning everything just so that his family and him don't have to. He really hadn't washed a single damned dish in his entire life.

“Great. When can you start?“

It was Gavin's turn to shoot his eyebrows to the moon. Even Monica seemed surprised, whipping her head towards her older sister. Without missing a beat, Gavin replied: “Today.” Jordan looked at him and for a moment, Gavin felt more exposed than he'd even ever, more exposed than when Riley stared him down, then she ever so abruptly grinned and threw her arm over her sister's shoulders, pulling her towards her.

“I like him,” she says simply to her, then turns back to him. “We've got two shifts for you, 11 AM to 5 PM and 9 PM to 11 AM. See you later tonight then." She explains with a salute of her hand, tying her bandanna around her head and turning back into the kitchen, as though nothing had happened and she was just stepping out for a quick smoke break. Gavin blinked and turned to Riley, who was also blinking. He turned to Monica, who was previously blinking but was now snickering.

Well. That's the end of that. 


	3. The Journalist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter is a little shorter than the other two but honestly, I really wanted to post it! And besides, I sort of ended it where I want to, so I think it's okay! Right? Right. 
> 
> Anyways, I just wanted to give a major thanks to DarkTARDIS, someone who's sweet comments really urged me to continue writing in this whenever I had the chance! This update is for you! Thank you so much for your support!!

“Oh, thank  _ fuck, _ ” is the first thing Riley says upon his arrival. Gavin chuckles and rounds the reception desk, placing the plastic bag of fast food in front of the elder Reed and grinning. “That's a dollar for the swear jar,” he points out cheekily. 

Riley's eyes widen for a moment. “Wh— No it's not. I said  _ phck,  _ not  _ fuck _ ,” she bullshits, and he snorts. “Well, you did just then.” The woman pauses before huffing and ruffling the boy's hair aggressively. He laughs and swats at her hand as she grumbles underneath her breath. “I'm just a receptionist and you're bankrupting me. I pay for your testosterone shots, you know. This is what I get for adopting you huh, you little shit?”

“Basically,” Gavin says, then adds with a rather shit-eating grin, “that's another dollar for the swear jar, by the way.”

“Get outta here, you  _ phckin’ _ rascal!” She scolds playfully, swinging her arm at him. He jumps back and turns, running off like a criminal. “That still counts!” He shouts, turning to look behind him briefly with a wide grin. She's shaking her head with her hands on her hips but smiling nonetheless. “No it doesn't! Thanks for the lunch, by the—” She halts, then yells,  “ _ watch out!” _

Gavin's grin falls and he turns around, confused as to what she meant. Before he'd had a chance to skid to a halt, he'd already slammed into another person, knocking them over while also falling back onto his hands. He hears his adoptive mother's heels clacking as she leaves her post and quickly runs up to the scene. She kneels next to him just as he sits up, groaning and holding his nose in pain.

“Gavin! Are you okay?” She asks calmly, holding the boy's face and checking him for injuries or bruises. He nods at her curtly and turns to glare at the person he'd knocked into (psh, it was definitely their fault and not his, what are you talking about?). Just as he opens his mouth to yell profanities and completely empty his wallet, he sees Riley stand up and walk towards the person, extending her hand to them. He raises an eyebrow as she helps them up.

She chuckles at his expectant facial expression and gestures to the woman next to her. “Gavin, meet my little sister and your aunt, Janine,” she introduces. Gavin's eyebrows shoot upwards. He's heard many things about Janine, and she certainly didn't look like anything he'd expected. Riley told him how she was a serious journalist, a hard worker, and always so professional. But as he looked on at the grinning woman, he wasn't so sure.

For one, her dark brown hair was pulled into a loose side ponytail that gently glided over her shoulder. She wore a bright red blouse and pencil skirt with ruffles at the top, long heels making her taller than her older sister despite physically being just as short. It didn't scream  _ serious _ per se, but she definitely didn't dress like Riley, who was usually seen in jeans and a sweater everyday. Though looking at his mother in her beige pencil skirt and blazer and pink button-up with those dreadful brown one-inch heels, he definitely couldn't deny the resemblance.

Their biggest difference was Janine's tan and her longer face, but otherwise, they smiled the same way: tired. “So I finally get to meet the Gavin I've heard and seen so much about,” she says quietly, lending him a hand to stand with. He blinks for a moment but takes it, standing and dusting his clothes. “You…” She pauses, narrowing her eyes. “You look… Very,  _ very _ familiar. Have we met before, Gavin?”

Gavin feels his entire bloodstream run ice cold. He was the son of one of the world's billionaires and she's a journalist. He wasn't stupid, he saw what his family put in the newspaper after they kicked him out.  _ Suicide,  _ the headlines wrote.  _ Couldn't cope with the school shooting,  _ the details said. One part of him was delighted to hear that Evangeline was actually, truly dead. The other was horrified that after almost three years, he was still recognized as that person. Or maybe he looked like Elijah? The thought made his heart ache. He misses Elijah.

Riley, using the “freaky motherly sixth sense” as Gavin had so eloquently put it, interrupted the conversation. “Pretty sure it's all the pictures I send you, sis. Kid hasn't really ever been to any of the countries you've traveled to either,” she explains, smiling at her sister teasingly. She turns to Gavin with that  _ look _ , the “we'll talk about this later” look, and he gulps nervously. Janine turns her attention away from the boy and scoffs at Riley. “I go to Malaysia  _ one _ time, Riley! One time!”

“Psh, yeah,  _ without me!” _ She shoots back, pushing the other woman's shoulder playfully. Gavin does his best not to think about Elijah as he watches the interaction unfold.”You didn't tell me you were coming to visit though, Jan. It's a long way from London,” Riley points out. Janine shrugs and smiles tightly, “I've got some work in Baltimore. I've been there for months now. Thought I'd come by when I get the chance since I'm so close to you,” she says, the turns to Gavin, “and I've honestly been dying to meet my nephew.”

Riley smiles gently, placing a hand on her sister's shoulder, glad to see her. Suddenly, she starts and shakes her head. “Unfortunately this isn't the best time for him,” Riley excuses, “Scott's outside waiting to drive him to work.” At the mention of a job, Janine raises an eyebrow. “Work?” The woman in red inquires, raising her wrist to look at a watch on it, “it's 8:24 PM?”

“He goes to school, you know. He can't have morning shifts anymore,” Riley explains on his behalf, then turns to him. “Go on, Gav. Sorry for holding you up, even though you'll still get there early,” she chuckles. Gavin smiles and nods politely at the two, and maybe a little awkwardly when it comes to Janine, then leaves quietly. He hears his mother's coworker, Courtney, call her back to work, and feels slightly bad for Janine, who just got here and most likely has to leave once again.

He leaves the establishment in which his mother works as a receptionist (this salon is older than he is at this point) and is rewarded with erratic honking the second he steps outside. The passenger seat of Scott's black car rolls down and a head of three different colors peeks out. “Gavin! Here!” A woman with dark brown roots, blonde hair, and red tips shouts, popping a bubblegum bubble as she spoke, waving him over with black-painted nails.

He rolls his eyes at the ruckus the woman is making and approaches the vehicle awaiting him. He stuffs himself in the backseat and leans forward. “Be louder next time, Lily,” he mocks. She turns to him and grins, dark red lips wide and just ad mocking as he was. “Sure thing, sweetheart,” she responds cheekily. Gavin scowls and Scott chuckles, leaning over and pressing his lips to his  girlfriend's cheek. “Go easy on him, Lil’.”

The teen in the back seat scoffs and crosses his arms. “Just drive,” he tells his brother. Scott laughs again and drives, quickly delivering Gavin to his destination. “You're welcome!” He shouts after him. Gavin turns briefly only to flip him off then turns back, making his way into Monnie's. He walks in casually and grins, “guess who's here early?” Head chef Jordan Maury's attention is caught by the statement and she looks away from the food she's preparing to beam at him.

“Atta boy!” She praises, winking at him. A dirty blonde haired teenager steps out from behind her and smiles at Gavin like he was her savior. And he freezes, as he usually does when she so much as breathes in his direction. Her gentle green eyes shine as she smiles and his heart beats far too fast for it to be okay. “Gavin!” She calls, elated, “thank you, thank you, thank you! You can only wash dishes in your sisters' presence for so long.”

He laughs nervously and goes to dismiss it but she suddenly steps forward and hugs him, then as she pulls away from the embrace presses a kiss to his cheek. “You're my hero,” she whispered into his ear then stepped away, smiling at him shyly and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, timidly walking away and out the door as her shift comes to an end.

Gavin stands stone still, eyes as wide as saucers and face a dark red. Jordan whistles at the display and crosses her arms. “Wow, you've really got it bad, kiddo,” she says, amused. If possible, Gavin's face reddens even more and he punches the other's forearm but doesn't say anything. Jordan laughs and raises her hands in surrender. “Hey, I'm just saying I wouldn't mind if you dated my youngest sister! You're practically family already anyway.”

The sixteen year old would have punched her again for her statement but the second sentence she said pulled at the heartstrings he so vehemently denies having. He turns to her and smiles and she returns the expression, ruffling his hair. “Hey,” she says quickly, “before we get all mushy and before your shift officially starts, wanna see how to flip an omelet like a total boss?”

Gavin chuckled and rose an eyebrow. “You mean like you?”

Jordan grins. “That's what I said.”

He rolls his eyes at her but still watches with utmost attention. Jordan was somewhere between an older sister and a cool aunt to him. Thirteen years apart, they were. Then there's the girl he was,  _ is _ enamored with. Rachel. She's Gavin's age and she's the sweetest girl there is. But Gavin's too scared, so he'll settle for friend. Jordan's already his older sister too anyway. He doesn't have to be with Rachel to make it official. The thought brings a blush to his cheeks and Jordan begins to tease him again, knowing what he was thinking about.

Things were good. And there was a cycle to it, an order that Gavin felt comfortable and happy with.

Until there wasn't.

When he'd walked outside, he'd expected his mother or brother to be outside, waiting for his shift to end so they can drive him home. Sometimes, even Jordan or Monica drove him back. But instead of any of these options, a foreign brown car stood before him. The tinted window of the driver's seat rolls down and a familiar head leans out as the person honks at him.

“Gavin!” Janine waves him over, grinning at him invitingly. The boy furrows his brows in confusion and approaches the car slowly. “My sister and her kid are busy so Riley sent me to take you home,” she explains, an easy smile on her face. Gavin narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. “I hope that's okay with you?” She says, and Gavin pursues his lips.

No, it's really not. It's awfully convenient for both of his family members to be busy on the very same day he meets her. On one hand, he could go back inside and ask the Maurys to drive him back. On the other hand, Janine is technically family too, and it would probably offend her greatly if he refused her regardless. She would go back to his mother and tell her and it doesn't seem like a good deal to him.

He makes no move to protest but none to accept and Janine coughs awkwardly. Then she opens the passenger door and motions for him to come in. “Come on in!” She says, still grinning. It almost unsettled Gavin how she kept smiling at him, especially since Riley described her as serious. And the fact that she didn't grant him the choice of sitting in the backseat only made him more nervous.

He approached the door unwillingly then climbed into the rather large car. As he closed the door behind him and buckled his seat belt, he felt a sharp feeling in his chest that he couldn't describe, telling him to get out of the car  _ now.  _ He clenched his fists and ignored it. It'll be fine. He's just paranoid. Nothing new.

“Before we get to yours, is it okay if we make a little detour?”

Gavin felt a pit drop in his stomach.

Suddenly a phone was shoved into his face and a laugh sounded from behind it. “This is my dog, Porsche,” Janine says, showing him a picture if said pet. Gavin blinked at the wide black eyes of the brown Maltese dog that stared back at him. He would have smiled, were he not as tense as he was. “I just need to feed him then I'll take you home.”

Not trusting his voice, Gavin merely nods, staring ahead blankly. Janine's grin falters and she retreats her phone, clearing her throat awkwardly. She doesn't say anything else and instead begins to drive. The silence was suffocating, but neither made a move to break it. They remained seated in the quiet until they made it to Janine's apartment complex.

As she stops the car, she sighs and Gavin feels his throat tighten. “I'm… not sure why you're so tense around me,” she begins, “but I won't pressure you for anything. Would you like to stay in the car while I go feed Porsche?” She offers quietly, clasping her hands together gently and looking at him hopefully.

“... I'd like that,” Gavin finally mutters and she grins as if she'd won a medal. “I'll be right back then!” She replies excitedly, hopping out of the car and leaving Gavin to his lonesome. He lets out a long breath he didn't know he had been holding and drags a hand down his face.

He was being stupid. Aunt Janine means well. She was just taking him home and feeding her dog. There was nothing to be suspicious or mistrusting of. It was unfair to be cold and distant from her when all she wanted was to meet and get to know her nephew, as she'd said herself. He'll have to make sure to apologize to her when she comes back.

When she does return, however, he makes no move to apologize. He's not sure why, but it's as if all his thoughts about his paranoia being stupid flew out the window and his gut sank right back again. She sat in the driver's seat and smiled at him then started the car, beginning the drive from hers to his.

It turns out the distance is not too great as ever so abruptly does Gavin find himself in front of his own house. As he leaves, Janine waves at him through the window. He timidly waves back and hopes that that would be enough to make up for his semi-rudeness and silence. He watches the car drive away and sighs, not looking forward to seeing his mother. They're still supposed to talk about what happened earlier that day.

He drags his feet to the front door and unlocks it with his key, inhaling deeply in preparation. “I'm home!” He announces, and waits. When no response comes, he heaves in relief. Seems like no one else is home. Well, save for Pixel, who approaches him excitedly and meows in complaint at his prolonged absence.

He snickers and crouches to her, scratching her neck. She proceeds to fall over onto her side and stare up at him expectantly, to which Gavin cracks up at. He'd never admit how distracted he just got but he will admit that he loves cats. He buries his face into her black fur and feels her purring, making him laugh in delight.

A sudden thud has him shooting upright. Pixel's ears turn towards the sound in confusion as she gets to her paws. Her eyes narrow and she brings herself closer to the ground, a hiss making its way out of her. Gavin feels his blood run ice cold as he snaps to his feet. If Pixel was hissing, it probably meant no good.

He walks slowly towards the sound, wishing he had something to protect himself with. The only bat in the house was in Riley's room but the sound was coming from deep within the kitchen, which he'd have to come across first. He tells himself he'll grab a pan as soon as he turns the corner but when he does, he huffs in disbelief.

On the floor is the stupid fruit bowl his mother insists on putting for no reason. He rolls his eyes at his ridiculousness and turns the light on, walking towards the mess he's about to clean. But as he picks the fruits and places them into the bowl again, he feels sudden shivers run down his spine and goosebumps nip at his skin, as if a breeze just passed him. Just as he begins to roll his eyes again, he freezes and looks up.

The window was open.

Before he has the chance to turn around, a man clad in black picks  him up and places something that smells funny over his mouth. Gavin screams underneath the chloroformed cloth, kicking his legs and clawing at the gloved hand. No matter how many times he elbows the man in the chest, he doesn't seem to budge in the slightest. He feels his limbs getting slower and his eyelids getting heavier.

Just like that, he's out.

The next time Gavin wakes up it takes him a few moments to realize whether his eyes are open or not. From the mere scent of the place and how cramped up he is, he quickly realizes he's been stuffed in the trunk of a car. His entire body is cursed with a dull ache, fueled by his fast-beating heart. He shuffles slightly and is hit with another realization: his hands and feet are tied up.

He would scream, but he's too petrified. He had no idea what the hell was going on. He hadn't made any enemies in the two years he's lived in Detroit. In fact, none of the Reeds have any enemies. Or at least, that's what he'd like to think.

He sincerely hopes Scott has nothing to do with this.

He knows his brother hangs around the wrong crowd, Lily being the first of them all. They just rub him the wrong way. Then there's the fact that some of them do drugs, which is a secret between the Reed siblings, as long as Scott keeps up his promise of never following in his “friends’” footsteps and getting into the stuff.

But what if he had? Lately, he  _ had _ been asking for more money from Riley  than usual… He says it's sometimes for college, sometimes for the car, sometimes for this and sometimes for that. But what if those had been lies? What if he'd been indebted to the wrong person? What if this is that person getting back at Scott?

… Would it work?

The thoughts give him an even bigger headache than the one he has. Before anymore can come bounding over into his poor brain, he hears what sounds like a giant door's creak and immediately holds his breath. Scruffy shoes and clacking heels come closer to where he is then proceed to stand directly in front of him.

“And you're sure we've got the right kid?” He hears a deep male voice say.

“Trust me, it's her.” He hears Janine's voice reply.

Her.

Her. Her.  _ Her. _

So  _ that's  _ what this was about.

Gavin feels sick. It's been two years since anybody's referred to him as  _ her _ on purpose. And he knows exactly the reason, too. His gut had been right all along. Janine's “work” in Baltimore and her recognition of him were no coincidence. And her continuous act afterwards almost made him believe her. Almost.

It didn't matter, she still got him in the end, her and whoever else was out there. He didn't have to wonder for very long as suddenly the trunk swings open and a flashlight is shining in Gavin's eyes. He blinks rapidly as his eyes adjust to the light. Before he gets the chance to get a better look, he's grabbed by his arm and violently dragged out of the trunk, which is slammed after him.

“Hey! Go easy!” Janine shouts at the man, who ignores her and proceeds to shove Gavin into a chair, tying his already tied hands to it. “That girl is worth millions, you know!” At the words, Gavin's face twists in disgust. He turns to her and snarls, to which both adults jump back in surprise.

“I'm not a  _ fucking _ girl!” The boy shouts in anger. Janine rolls her eyes and waves her hand dismissively. “Please,  _ Evangeline,”  _ she says, causing him to flinch almost violently, “you can drop the transgender act now. But I'll admit, that's one clever way to hide your identity.”

Gavin's pupils must've  shrunk to the size of pinpricks in horror and his skin must've turned a deathly pale because even the man rose a pitying eyebrow at his expression. He shrugged silently, not caring to cut into the abuse. Janine turns to the man and grins widely, stepping closer to him and placing a hand on his chest.

“Thank you for helping me out with this, Ethan…” She whispers, looking up at him through her lashes. It seems the man, Ethan, is just as confused as Gavin is, as he leans backwards and away from her. “I couldn't have done this without you,” she says, dragging her upwards slowly to his neck and resting it there.

The blond man stands still and raises an eyebrow. “Uh,” he mutters, “you're welcome?”

Just as the words left his mouth, Janine's hand flew upwards to the other side of the man's neck. Were Gavin paying attention, he would've seen the woman sneak the syringe now plunged in Ethan's neck  from behind her back. Ethan let out a gurgled growl of betrayal as he was injected with God knows what before he fell at Gavin's feet.

Gavin stared at his limp body in horror as Janine's red heels stepped over it casually. “Relax, he's not dead,” she says, as if that's supposed to make him feel better. She grabs another chair that makes an awful noise as she drags it over the wood and sets it in front of Gavin. She sits and crosses her legs, placing her hands on her knees and tilting her head at him casually.

The boy only stares back, eyes now wide as saucers. “So,” she says, smiling. Gavin stares back in silently. “What's your story, Evangeline Kamski?” She says, pulling out a record player from her blazer. Gavin stays quiet for a moment before inhaling deeply. Janine leans forward and peaks an interested eyebrow.

“My name… Is  _ Gavin. Reed.” _

Janine's lips twist into a scowl and she leans back again. “I was hoping we'd be able to get some time alone before your handlers come for you,” she says in disappointment. “My handlers?” Gavin inquires, “what do you mean by that? Who's coming for me?” He asks desperately, voice raspy from misuse.

His “aunt” laughs heartily and pats her knee. “Isn't it obvious?” She says, leaning her cheek onto her fist. “Mister and misses Kamski are the ones coming for you.”

Gavin's heart drops to his feet and his blood runs ice cold. As if on cue, the sound of an approaching car is heard from outside of wherever the hell the are and a honk sounds loudly. He whimpers; she laughs. She stands up and dusts her red clothes, sighing as she did so. She walks to where the door apparently is and smiles in the dark.

“Sit tight!” She says, opening the door and closing it. In the brief moment of moonlight that bathed the area, Gavin investigated his surroundings and quickly realized he was in what seemed to be a barn, evident by the hay on the ground and the wooden interior.

The second the woman is gone he begins to shuffle, desperately trying to untie himself.  When Ethan had retied his wrists and ankles from being together to the chair, he just so happened to loosen the cloth. Seems like it's his first rodeo kidnapping children, if his tying tactics are this pathetic.

He's read enough books to know that he could just shimmy right out of this, but he doesn't have the time to do so properly. Instead, Gavin closes his eyes tightly and throws the chair back as hard as he could. It does not break like he wished but the force loosens his ties a bit more, just enough that he manages to wrench his ankles and wrists with enough tugs.

_ “What was that?” _ He hears someone say from outside, and the voice is so familiar it sends fear straight through his veins. He scrambles to his feet in the dark and looks around for a way out. He looks up and finds a small window at the very top of the barn and is immediately running to where he assumes the ladder is.

The barn doors open from behind him and more moonlight illuminates the room, but the shadows on the ground prove that  _ they _ are behind him. His motions are frantic and he doesn't look back, he  _ can't  _ look back, because if he does he'll freeze and everything will be over.

_ “EVANGELINE KAMSKI!” _

Gavin flings himself out of the window.

He lands less than gracefully on the ground outside and he could've sworn he heard his entire body just crack as he hit what appears to be soil, which makes sense given he's apparently on a farm. He hears footsteps rapidly approaching his direction and forces himself to stand.

And then he's running. He's running just like that night so many nights ago. He's running so that they never catch up to him. And he knows he's going to live the rest of his life running. Before his thoughts spiral, he spies a cornfield and picks up the pace, knowing it would be the perfect place to hide from them.

He hears them exit their cars, which he'd apparently been outrunning in sheer terror, and call someone that isn't him. He dives between the vegetables and stays as low as he could. He sees lights and hears rustles but blocks out everything else and focuses on getting the hell out of there if they do somehow find him.

“Goddammit. Come with me, I know where to go!” He hears  _ him _ say, and listens as they walk away. He keeps his hands over his mouth regardless, not wanting them to even hear him breathing. Slowly but surely do their angry footsteps fade and corn rustles no more.

Gavin had no idea where was the exit, he just crawled until he was out. He also had no idea which direction was home, so he just walked. He sauntered aimlessly in the night, hands over his shivering arms. It was a cold night, nothing uncommon. But true to his bad luck charm, it began to rain.

There was nothing for miles that Gavin could see. Maybe he'd went the wrong way. Maybe he was going further away from Detroit. Maybe he was walking all the way back to where he first came from. His thoughts swirled and swirled until finally Gavin forced his feet to stop. Then, he started crying.

His aunt had just kidnapped him. She tried to make him go _back_ there , without even understanding just how hard it was to get out of it. She referred to him as someone he'd fought so hard to bury. It brought back all the memories he'd tried so hard to forget.

Gavin just wanted to die. Maybe that'll make him forget.

What did they even want with him? They were the ones who kicked him out. Why did they hire someone to kidnap him? Or did they not? Was Janine the one who initiated contact, suspecting who he was?Was Janine blackmailing them? Were the Kamskis trying to get rid of him once and for all?

Before his brain could implode with questions, a glow drew his attention. A bright red and blue in the distance, flashing over and over. It shone, almost like a beacon, calling him.

A cop car.

A  _ cop _ car.

Gavin wiped his tears and began to wobble his way towards the light. He was beginning to feel that fall out of the window, and the cold weather and pouring rain certainly did not help. He was soaked to the bone and every single one of his limbs shook violently as he approached the car.

Before he'd even gotten too close, the driver's seat swung open and a flashlight shone into his eyes for the second time that night. Gavin squinted at the light and turned his head away slowly, teeth chattering loud enough for the cop to hear.

“Gavin?” A female voice called, “Gavin Reed?”

His knees gave out and he fell to the floor in a boneless heap. He heard the woman curse and run towards him and he had half a mind not to get up and start running. This was a cop. She was going to help him, not harm him. It's just difficult for him to trust nowadays.

“Are you okay?” She asked softly, grabbing him by the shoulders and gently pushing him upright. All Gavin did was wheeze tiredly, looking in her direction but not quite seeing her. “Jesus, you must be freezing,” she mumbles and takes her jacket off then drapes it over the quaking boy's shoulders in one swift motion.

“I've gotta call this in…” The dark skinned woman says to herself, and that immediately sobers the exhausted teen. “No,” he starts in a pathetic excuse of an exclamation, “please, just take me home first.” The woman blinked at him in surprise and furrowed her brows.

She gasped when his eyes watered. “I want my mom,” he croaked, and she easily broke. “Goddammit, they're gonna fire me the second they hear about this..” She hissed beneath her breath then stood. “Come on, up you go, baby,” she says, and Gavin's far too broken to comment on it. He lets her help him up and leans against her completely.

She tried to lead him to the car quickly to get out of the rain but his feet dragged and his knees buckled too much. “Can I carry you, sweetie?” She offers more than asks and Gavin shrugs indifferently.  She took that as an agreement and swooped him up, wrapping his legs around her waist and his arms around her shoulders. For such a small person, she's got a lot of muscle to just be able to manhandle him so. Or maybe Gavin's still pathetically thin after all this time.

Gavin buries his face into her neck and sighs, hating just how weak and vulnerable he was. But she was a cop. She was here to help him. And he wasn't really in a position to deny her aid. And after the day he's had, this was exactly what he'd needed.

She gently sets him in the passenger seat of the car and places the seat belt over him then shuts the door and rounds to the driver seat's side. She stares at the radios with pursed lips and grabs a bottle of water, then proceeds to pour it over both.

“Rainwater ruined both my radios, I couldn't call it in,” she says matter-of-factly and flashes Gavin a grin, “ain't that right?” Gavin huffs a breath through his nose but smiles nonetheless. She smiles, satisfied, and starts the car. She turns the car around and begins to speed to where he assumes and hopes is Detroit.

She glances at him a couple of times before speaking. “You've been missing for three days, you know,” she says, and his breath hitches. How come he was knocked out for that long? Or had he woken up and been knocked out repeatedly so that he doesn't remember? The thought scares him a little.

It seems she notices his sudden discomfort because she clears her throat awkwardly and hastily changes the subject. “My name's Ivanelle,” she introduces with a smile, “what's your name?” She asks. Gavin raises a condescending eyebrow at the unnecessary question, considering she already knows who he is.

“Gavin,” he answers regardless. Ivanelle smiles softly at him and he melts, feeling safe and secure in her hands. He puts his head on the window, but the moment he feels his eyes droop slightly, he shoots upright, startling the woman next to him.

She glances at him in sympathy. “You should get some sleep,” she suggests, “I'll wake you up when I need you to tell me where to go.” But Gavin shakes his head almost erratically. He wanted to shrink into himself at the thought of being unconscious,  _ unaware,  _ again.

She purses her lips but says nothing, looking at the road. Conversation was scarce since, if ever present. The second the city lights appeared, Gavin sat up slightly and began to point Ivanelle in the directions to his home.

Once they're there, Gavin is embarrassed to say he all but forgot about the policewoman next to him. His only goal was to get through his front door. He didn't have keys on him so he'd have to settle for knocking and hoping his family's home for the night.

When he gets to the door, he realizes he actually has no energy to raise his fist and knock. He turns to Ivanelle, who smiles patiently and knocks for him. “Detroit Police, open up!” She recites. After a series of immediate and quick thuds heading to the door, the door swings open.

Gavin holds his breath as his eyes meet Riley's.

_ “Gavin _ ,” she weeps, grabbing him by the shoulders and slamming him into an embrace like no other. He choked for a moment before sniffling and hugging her back. Ivanelle smiled at the sweet moment, thinking that the the private reunion was probably worth her job.

“Oh, how delightful!” A female voice says from within the house. “Your son's been found!”

Gavin froze.

He tore himself out of his mother's hold and dared to look.

Anthony and Cherrie Kamski stare back at him with clasped hands, teeth showing in wicked grins.

Just like that, he's out.


End file.
